


It Takes a Village

by Blaumeise



Series: Insane [2]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Dogs, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: After their successful escape, Izzy, Duff and Slash try to start new in Alaska. Life is hard, money is tight, and is Izzy just paranoid or are the people around them really … not normal? Or is Slash right and they are just trying to be nice? Will they ever eat anything but fish? Read to find out!This is the much requested sequel to 'Insane'. Duff is still weird, Izzy is still paranoid, Slash is ready to tear out his hair with those two idiots, and Axl ... yeah, we'll see what's going to happen with Axl.
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin
Series: Insane [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879291
Comments: 93
Kudos: 40





	1. The House on the Cliffs

Izzy dragged his feet over to the old, beat up Chevy, his limp a bit more defined than it had been in the morning, and the plastic bag with dinner hanging over his shoulder. Slash would complain that they were going to have fish again, but he had to suck up and take it. If one worked on a trawler, then fish was what was available in abandon, and fish was what they would eat at least twice a day. He was drawing the line at fish for breakfast. 

Once they had managed to acquire what else they needed for a halfway decent living, like clothes, furniture or freaking cooking utensils, Izzy was ready to talk about alternatives. Until then: fish it was.

Izzy had gotten this job just the way he had gotten each and every job he had ever held since their unplanned and unauthorized departure from St. John’s Institution for the Mentally Impaired: by helping out a bit here and there, until somebody thought he was worth keeping, and happy he could just pay him on the side. 

Arne Larsen was in his early sixties. His wife had died a few years ago, his children had left Pollock Cove for the bright lights of Anchorage, and he was left with an aging trawler, the experiences of a lifetime, and too much time on his hands. He didn’t necessarily have to go out every day anymore, but he was just as unable to stop as the shoals of fish that travelled along the coast with the rhythm of the year. 

Izzy had started their acquaintance by happening to be at the port, and helping him out when he brought his daily catch on shore, carrying crates for half an hour, without asking for payment. Of course, he had always gotten something to cook for dinner out of it, and eventually Arne had asked him, if he cared to earn a few bucks and drive out with him. 

Fishing, Izzy had soon found out, was very hard work, but that was OK. Tiring himself out took his mind off his worries. He slept better at night, he had fewer panic attacks, and when he was out at sea, nothing but water around himself, he felt at ease. 

“Izzy!” Arne yelled after him, when had almost reached the car. “How about you come over on Saturday? Eric and Lilah are coming home for the weekend and there’ll be far too much food for us. We’ll fire up the grill, raid the freezer and have a nice evening.”

Izzy hesitated.

“Bring your friends, of course. The more people to feed, the better. I also need to get some of that elk out of the house. I threatened Lilah with sending it all to Anchorage, and I really should. She was the one insisting on a hunting trip and she shot the blasted beast. And I’m stuck with all the meat. But I feel sorry for the postman. Might smell a bit, when it starts thawing.”

It was the second time Arne offered and while it was kindly meant, he had yet to meet Duff. 

“Ok,” Izzy said, not really happy about it. There went his plan to keep a low profile, but keeping a low profile in a place that counted 147 inhabitants, including the three of them, was a lost cause anyway. “I’ll bring the beer.”

That concession was enough to make him calculate. If he bought beer, he had to let go of something else and he didn’t have the faintest idea what that could be. 

Arne seemed content and Izzy got into the car. It would be OK, he decided. Arne liked to talk and he didn’t mind that Izzy didn’t offer much in return. Hopefully his children, Eric and Lilah, would be the same. He had of course asked about what had driven him up to Pollock Cove of all places, but hadn’t pried when Izzy had just shrugged and said that it was as good a place as any. 

He was probably aware himself that somebody who worked this hard for such a lousy pay, who didn’t even try to get a better job, and moved willingly into a ramshackle house in one of the most desolated places of the planet, had reasons that weren’t suitable for public entertainment. That he didn’t mind, was another bonus in Izzy’s eyes, and if it meant he had to eat more grilled fish and endure the company of people he didn’t want to meet, then he would do it. If only there weren’t … Duff. 

Pollock Cove was as tiny as tiny could get, but he still had to drive half an hour through spruce forests, and then over a mile along the rugged coastline before he reached their house high on a cliff. It was an uncomfortable location, exposed to the wind and the dampness that came from the sea, but Izzy cherished the open view over the ocean. Another benefit was that the constant wind kept the mosquitoes at bay and one could actually sit outside without being eaten alive. 

They had stayed at another house first, one that stood sheltered against the vast spruce forest, but it hadn’t worked out. At night, Izzy had stood at the window, looking into the woods and wondering what was hidden between the trees. 

Slash had cursed when they had moved up here. The house had hardly been habitable, the roof leaking, the wood panelling rotting merrily away, the floorboards giving way in a few places. The other one had come with at least basic furniture, but here they had slept in sleeping bags on the bare floor and had cooked on a camping stove. 

But now, a two months later, the roof was repaired, they had two beds, a cooking plate, a table and a few chairs, most of it bought second hand in Lotz Creek, the next bigger town about an hour away. They didn’t pay any rent either. The owner had been happy that somebody was willing to put a bit of work into it, and keep the house from falling apart. He had even come up with the material, and for a week Izzy and Duff had crawled over the roof to hammer shingles onto tar paper. 

Whenever there was time, they kept repairing what needed repairing and while it was all a bit makeshift, it would hopefully keep the fucker from crashing over their heads or under their feet. 

As usual, Izzy breathed a sigh of relief when he left the forest behind and the land opened to the wide expanse of the ocean with its hundreds of tiny rocky islands sprinkled into the grey of the waves. By now he could name the owners of the few trawlers he spotted in the distance, not necessarily because the boats were discernible from so far away, but because he knew who would be out when and about where. 

Pollock Cove was naturally sheltered by two promontories caving inward and almost closing off the bay. The cliffs weren’t spectacular, nothing that was of any interest for tourists, and the bay itself too small for more than a couple of fishing boats. 

Sometimes the ocean was as blue as the sky above, but those days were rare. Today it wore its customary grey, and for most of the morning they had worked under a constant spray of rain. 

Izzy still loved it, even more sometimes than when everything was calm. At least on his way back from the port. Driving out when he knew he would soon be drenched and freezing on the open sea was less joyful. He was getting used to the tiny nutshell of a boat hopping over the waves, but apart from the unpleasantness of working in a downpour of rain, a stormy sea meant lots of waves, and seasickness was not yet entirely a thing from the past. 

His heart made its usual little jump when he made out their humble abode on the cliff. It was an abomination of a house, but for him, it was perfect. 360° of open space around it, standing forlorn on a grassy patch on top of a rock that dropped off towards the pebble beach below. It looked as if it ducked landwards under the permanent pressure from the winds. Even the windows were tiny on the seaside. 

It had been more than two years now since their escape, and they had finally made it to Alaska in early spring. Getting false papers had taken them longer than originally planned. They had returned to L.A. for that, because Slash knew enough unsavoury people there to work something out. 

Unfortunately, it had cost a lot more money than they had had at their disposal, and that money needed to come from somewhere. So, Izzy had done as much unsavoury work for unsavoury people as was necessary, and now he and Duff each possessed a passport that might hold up to a cursory inspection. He still preferred not to use them if he could help it. 

While they had stayed in L.A., Izzy had barely allowed Duff out of their cockroach infested apartment, and he had crawled back into his shell, had hallucinated once again, and had returned to staring into space for hours. It had been painful to watch and Izzy had been glad when they had finally been able to pack up. By that time, it had been November and not even Izzy was crazy enough to move to Alaska in winter. 

So, he had given in to Slash’s nagging and tried, if not for Mexico, then at least for some place warmer. It hadn’t worked out. Each time they had settled somewhere for longer than a week, something had come up, be it that there was suddenly an update on the Henley-case all over the news, that they started to draw suspicious looks from the neighbours, and once even that the complete apartment complex they had lived in had to be demolished due to structural damage. 

When spring came, Izzy had had enough and packed up for the final move. Duff had predicted Alaska, so Alaska it would be, and Alaska, it turned out, was good for Duff. He was … growing up, for a better word. 

While at St John’s he had channelled all his needs for activity into endless origami projects, here he was starting to become more versatile. Sure, whatever he did was still an endless repetition of one and the same task, but now it could be anything, really. Some of it was even useful, like stacking firewood, collecting kindling, or nailing shingles with absolute precision to a roof. Maybe he could get him into picking wild berries later in the year. It would keep them from developing serious vitamin deficiencies. 

Most of all, whatever Duff did, he did because he wanted to, not because there wasn’t anything else to occupy his need for activity. And Duff, it turned out, was very active. He spent hours roaming the cliffs and the beaches and when he came home, he was wet and sunburned and happy. 

Lately he had been busy with dragging pebbles, driftwood and sea shells up from the bay, and arranging them in elaborate ornaments on the halfway sheltered, grassy patch next to the driveway. 

When Izzy now drove up, he spotted the giant masterpiece from afar. It had grown again over the day. Izzy made out a complete shoal of tiny fish formed out of broken shells, which hadn’t been there yet, when he had left. 

Duff came out when Izzy killed the engine, Mouse, their bad tempered German shepherd, as always, on his heels. He looked good, Izzy thought again, still unused to the open smile he sported most of the day, or the confidence with which he navigated his new surroundings. 

“Hey, man,” he called out. “Salmon for dinner?” He held up the bag. “We haven’t had any since …yesterday.”

Duff jumped down the stairs and hugged him. Izzy kissed him briefly onto the cheek and laughed when he saw his wrinkled nose. Mouse, on the other hand, was delighted by the mixture of fish and sweat he exuded and sniffed up and down his pantlegs. 

“You should shower,” Duff said, as he did each time Izzy came home. “You smell.”

“I know, baby,” Izzy replied and kissed him again, onto the other cheek this time. 

“Are you very hungry?” Duff asked. “Mouse ate the last of the bread.”

Izzy sighed. Yes, he was very hungry. Ravenous, in fact. And too tired to start cooking right away. But Duff had this unfortunate tendency to feed their dog with food that was not meant for her consumption, but their own. 

“I can make pasta,” he said while they went up the stairs. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, because Mouse ate all of the bread, you know. And the cheese. And the fish.”

“You gave her all of your lunch?” Izzy brought the bag inside and put it onto the table. They didn’t have any kitchen counters yet, just the table, a sink in the corner, a fridge in another and a cooking plate on a wobbling camping table, which they grandiosely called ‘the stove’. “Why?”

“She asked,” Duff said “And I think she liked it. It was gone really fast.”

That was the problem with Duff and Mouse. Mouse liked a lot of the things Izzy prepared for when they had to leave Duff alone, and Duff was always happy to indulge her. Izzy might despair about it, but he didn’t find it in himself to be angry. They left Duff at home for hours each day, and Mouse was not only his companion, she was also there to protect him. She deserved bread and salmon and cheese and potatoes and even fucking fruit salad now and then. There was nothing this dog did not eat. 

“When will Slash be back?” Duff asked while Izzy put the salmon into the fridge and pulled pasta and a jar of sauce out of a cardboard box. He gave the box an unhappy look. It shouldn’t be completely empty, yet, but sadly it was. Mouse’s appetite was playing havoc with his meal planning. 

Duff had sat down at the table and was scratching Mouse behind her ears. 

“Around seven.”

Duff nodded as if it meant something to him. While he was able to read a clock correctly, he was unable to attach real life meaning to something like ‘half past six’. Usually Izzy said something like ‘around sunrise’ or ‘around dawn’ to give him an idea, but it was June in Alaska and dusk and dawn happened pretty much simultaneously.

Slash had found a job in Lotz Creek, in a little music shop, and while he complained about the drive every day, he had more fun selling instruments to kids, than he would have had on one of the fishing vessels. Unlike Izzy, Slash could also apply for a real job, being in possession of absolutely legal paperwork. It made life a lot easier for all of them, as it also meant he had signed the lease, bought the cars, and paid the electricity company.

To his surprise, Izzy had found out that Slash was a more than decent guitar player. While they should probably have spent their scarce money on sensible things, he hadn’t complained overly much when Slash had dragged home a guitar that had cost more than a full month’s worth of both their wages. 

They would just have to eat more fish for a while, but OK. It was a small sacrifice for the look not only on Slash’s, but also on Duff’s face, when Slash had shown him the instrument. Duff had carefully tugged on a string and jumped back in shock, when he had heard the tone. Slash had plaid some simple chords and Duff had been over the moon with excitement. 

“It’s like the radio,” he had said in awe and reverently touched the instrument again. 

Slash had shown him where to put his fingers and let him try himself, and Duff being Duff, had spent hours repeating whatever new sequences Slash showed him when he came home in the evening. 

“Can you toss in the pasta?” Izzy asked. They owned two pots and a pan and he now filled one with water and put it onto the stove. “When it’s boiling?”

“I can,” Duff said. “Do you want me to?”

“That’s why I’m asking. And don’t give anything to Mouse.”

“She likes pasta,” Duff replied. 

“I like pasta, too, baby,” Izzy admonished. “And I want some when I’m coming out of that shower. So, don’t give it to the fucking dog, OK? She’ll burn her muzzle anyway. She doesn’t like hot food.”

“OK,” Duff said and Izzy only hoped he would stick to it. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had left the room for a moment and came back to find half of their dinner gone to a gluttonous dog. Because she had asked. It was a miracle that she wasn’t as fat as a hippo, as often as she asked. Instead she was lean and tough from all the running around she did in Duff’s wake. And Duff did a lot of running around, up and down the cliffs, along the beeches, climbing over rocks and padding through shallow water. Which destroyed his clothes. Which they couldn’t afford to replace. 

Izzy stripped out of his working clothes and dumped them into the squeaking washing machine they had found for almost free at a garage sale. Then, trying to keep the weight off his damaged foot, he hopped under the shower. They did have hot water, but never for long, and so he did his best to quickly rid himself of any offending smell he might give off. 

To his delight, he even found clean clothes. Slash had done some washing the day before, but Izzy had been convinced it would have been merrily flapping around in the rain all day.

“Did you get the laundry in?” he asked when he returned to the kitchen, pulling a clean sweater over his head. Duff had poured pasta into the pot, but had not reduced the heat and it was bubbling wildly in its pot. At least he had taken off the lid. Izzy did try to teach Duff a bit of cooking, but it wasn’t going overly well. Prepping food, now that was something else. He would cut whatever was put in front of him into absolutely identically sized pieces. Sometimes Izzy wondered if they couldn’t get him a job at a restaurant. If there had been a restaurant at Pollock Cove. Or in the surrounding fifty thousand miles. 

“It was wet outside,” Duff replied. “Very wet.”

“Thanks.” 

“What for?” Duff asked, looking a bit confused. 

Izzy heated the sauce in the smaller pot and fetched the last teaspoon of grated cheese out of the fridge. Mouse was watching hopefully. 

“For getting in the laundry.”

“Yeah, it was wet, you know. Outside. The laundry was dry.”

“That’s why I’m saying ‘thanks’. Because you kept dry laundry from getting wet again. Set the table, will you?”

Duff did as told, which wasn’t much work. All their plates, cups and cutlery – one piece for each of them – were stacked up on the table anyway. Izzy put the pots into the middle and they started eating. 

“I’ll do the dishes,” Duff declared when they were done. It was another household task Izzy had tried to teach him, this time with more success. Duff thought doing the dishes was the neatest thing since origami. 

It made Izzy furious whenever he found another stupid everyday thing, Duff had obviously never experienced in his life. As if he had lived in a box before he had shown up in L.A. 

“Would you? But only these.” He pointed out the plates and forks they had used. The last time Izzy had asked him to ‘do the dishes’, Duff had washed every piece of kitchenware they owned, no matter whether it was clean or dirty. 

Izzy left him to the bliss of dish washing, went over to their bedroom and dropped face forward onto the mattress. The shower had helped a bit, but his muscles were tense and a bit overworked. It wasn’t as bad anymore as it had been at the beginning. He was slowly getting into shape. The working clothes he had inherited from Arne’s son Eric were still far too wide for his leaner frame, but he prided himself on building up some actual muscle mass. Still, as he worked harder than he ever had in his life, he was shot each time he came home. 

“That was fast,” he mumbled when Duff joined him on the bed. 

“Mouse helped.”

Izzy snorted. Mouse was very good at pre-washing the dishes. 

“But you did wash them afterwards, did you?” It wasn’t as much a given as it should be. 

“I did.”

Duff ran a hand down over his spine, a silent offer to provide some tender loving care. At St. John’s Duff had been forced to keep his hands mostly to himself and when he had finally been freed of these restrictions, he had gone totally over the top with his need for physical contact. Since their relocation to Pollock Cove, he was finally normalizing and Izzy had to say, he was a little bit relieved. As much as he loved cuddling with Duff, being constantly wrapped up in overlong arms and legs could be exhausting. 

“Are you hurting?” Duff asked. 

“Nah,” Izzy replied, but he knew it was useless. Duff may not know what a guitar was or how doing the dishes worked, but he had a very good eye for whenever Izzy moved stiffly, be it because his ankle hurt or because his shoulders were completely fucked after a day of work. 

“I can make it better.”

And he could. One of Duff’s undeniable talents was rubbing kinks out of tense muscles. He honed in on them with unerring surety, and worked them out with never ending patience. 

“Want me to?” Duff tucked gently at his sweater “You only have to take off your clothes.”

Izzy gave in. He was never able to say ‘no’ to Duff. 

Minutes later, he was in heaven. Duff poked his long fingers into his aching muscles, making him groan in pain and sigh in bliss whenever the pain faded into the background. He worked himself from Izzy’s neck and his shoulders down over his back to his ass and then … 

Duff never stopped at rubbing out kinks. He gently massaged Izzy’s ass with both hands, parted his cheeks and ran an oil-slick finger down the crack. He stopped briefly over his hole, asking for permission. Izzy parted his legs a little more as OK, and then the finger was inside. 

They talked very little during sex. Izzy wasn’t sure if it was a leftover from St. John’s, where everything had to be fast and quiet, or if it was simply their way of communication. Whatever the reason, every question was asked via touches and every answer was given the same way.

If Izzy had thought that he was too tired for sex, then he had been mistaken. Duff knew how to work him up, and soon he nudged him gently onto his side and reached for Izzy’s cock. The inside and outside rhythm matched perfectly and Izzy groaned his approval into the pillow. Then he found himself suddenly bereft of all touch. Before he could voice his discontent, he heard the rustling of clothes, and then Duff, now naked himself, was back. He laid down behind him and nibbled softly at his shoulder, then moved his mouth down his spine and to the small of his back. 

Izzy suddenly realized that he was not much offering in return. He tried to move over to show his appreciation, but Duff had his own plans. He just grabbed him with both hands around his hips and pushed him back into position. As sweet as Duff normally was, he could be really bossy in bed. 

He did what he always did, and let Duff have his way. He had little enough control in everyday life, there was no harm in letting him take over during sex. Duff’s hands were back, and Izzy admitted that there was something about not having to work for his pleasure. A second finger joined the first one, a little too sudden for his taste, but he did his best and relaxed. He needn’t worry that things would progress too fast. Prepping was something Duff took to extremes. Izzy had the niggling feeling that he had made unpleasant experiences with lax preparations himself. Another thing that made him angry each time he thought about it. 

It took a while until Izzy was lubed and stretched to Duff’s satisfaction, and then, all of a sudden, he stopped moving. 

Again, Izzy spread his legs a bit more, indicating his approval to go on, and with one determined shove, Duff was inside. Izzy hunched his back at the sudden sensation, but Duff caught him in stride. One hand stroked his dick once again, slick and perfectly in sync with the gentle movements he now implemented from the other side. 

Duff panted softly into his ear, increasing the speed a little as Izzy’s muscles gave way. Izzy pushed back, trying to get him to go harder, but Duff had other things in mind. He just moved backwards with Izzy’s push, not allowing him to get any friction from it. Izzy tried again, but only achieved the same disappointing result. 

“Bastard,” he muttered and felt Duff smile against his neck. “Have it your way, then.

He stopped any attempt at speeding things up and handed himself over. He needn’t have worried. Duff knew what he liked and was never shy about giving it to him. Soon Izzy was treated to the gratifying sensation of being fucked into the mattress. For a while it felt absolutely awesome, but just when he thought that he was getting sore, and wondered if he would be limping extra hard on the trawler tomorrow, Duff climaxed. 

Even when coming, Duff remained silent. This was definitely a leftover from their prison days, which he just couldn’t shake. Sometimes Izzy tried to coax him into being a bit more vocal, but to no avail. Maybe he had never learned, that it was a possibility. 

After one or two final thrusts, Duff pulled out and Izzy found himself rolled onto his back. Before he could react at all, Duff’s mouth was around his dick. He bucked, but was held down with one hand firmly on his hip, while the other closed around his balls. Izzy gave up. He wouldn’t get a foot on the ground today. He flopped back and tried to relax and prolong the sensation a bit longer, but Duff simply pushed all his buttons until he came. Duff swallowed, then joined him further up, and draped himself all over Izzy’s body.

“Stupid fucker. Now I need to shower again.” Izzy ruffled Duff’s hair. It was growing out again, and now looked truly forbidden. While in L.A., he had made another attempt at dyeing him dark and leftover traces of that disaster still could be found around the tips of the blond mess. Izzy didn’t mind. Duff could have blue hair, for all he cared, he would always be beautiful to him. 

He kissed him gently and Duff leant in, sighing contently into his mouth. Izzy decided that washing up could wait. For the next hours there wouldn’t be any warm water, and he was far too relaxed to suffer through a cold shower. 

It was around five when they finally got up and did have a still pretty cold shower. Izzy had just started prepping the salmon for dinner later, while Duff tossed a toy for the dog around, when all of a sudden Mouse jumped up, raced out of the open door and then her furious bark resounded over the hum of a motor. It was too early for Slash, and the dog knew the sound of his car. She never barked when one of them came home. Izzy’s hand started to tremble and he quickly put the knife down before he chopped off a finger.

“Wait here,” he ordered and went outside to check what her problem was. “Stay inside, don’t come out.”

A truck was coming up the driveway, one he had never seen before. Izzy stuffed his hands into his pockets to quiet them and walked down the stairs. Suddenly his ankle decided to act up in sync with his hands, and he almost stumbled on the last step. 

“Mouse!” he called, but the dog didn’t react. She kept barking at the car which had now stopped to avoid running her over. “Mouse!” 

Finally, she came, clearly unhappy about the order. She wasn’t the best trained of dogs, Izzy was the first to admit. In fact, she was a fucking menace to anybody who was not one of them. But the rest of them weren’t exactly well trained either, so she fit right in with their little family. Izzy grabbed her by the collar and held her while a woman scrolled down a window. 

“Hi!” she said. “Can I get out?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “I’ve got her.”

The woman appeared a bit older than he was himself, but not by much. She had dark hair that barely reached her shoulders, and wore the practical type of clothes most people around here ran around in all day long. 

“I’m Anna,” she said and approached him with a smile. “Wojcik. We’re neighbours.”

“Neighbours?” Izzy asked confused. He hadn’t thought he had any neighbours. He didn’t want any neighbours either. It had been one of the huge benefits of the house. 

Anna laughed. “What we call neighbours around here. Let’s say, I live in the next house down that road. Me and Jenny.” She pointed at the car and Izzy made out a child on the backseat. 

Mouse had calmed enough and Izzy let go off her. She shot forward and aggressively pushed her nose against Anna’s crotch. Anna stood still and allowed he to sniff. She grumbled a bit, but then backed off. 

“What’s her name?” Anna asked, looking after the dog. 

“Mouse,” Izzy said and she chuckled. 

“Cute. You can come out, Jenny!” she called, then turned back to him. “She is a bit shy.”

“Because of the dog?”

“Oh no,” Anna said. “We breed sled dogs, so, she’s used to a house full of them. She also knows not to hassle a dog and definitely not on their own territory. But she’s a bit shy with humans.”

Jenny climbed out of the car, a covered dish in her hands. She was maybe seven or eight, Izzy guessed, with the same dark hair of her mother. Mouse immediately honed in on the new victim, but she was a lot less aggressive with children than she was with adults. Jenny stood still and held the dish up over her head while Mouse checked her out and declared her uninteresting. 

“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” Anna went on when Izzy just stood silently, hands still in his pockets. “I just thought it was time to say hallo. We should have done that a lot earlier.”

“Hallo,” Izzy said, hoping she would leave again. 

“And we brought cupcakes. Jenny!”

Jenny approached them now, shyly holding out the dish. 

Izzy knew he should take it, but he didn’t have his hands under enough control to guarantee he wouldn’t just drop it. It would take another couple of minutes at least. 

“Why don’t you come in?” he said. “If you have some time.” 

He didn’t want them inside, but like this they could carry the cupcakes themselves and spare him the embarrassment. If they were really neighbours, then he would have to deal with them sooner or later anyway. 

“You can say ‘hallo’ to Duff, too.”

Anna looked a little unsure, clearly not trusting him that far. Yeah, pity, she had come up here, not the other way round. 

“Sure,” she then said and Izzy cocked his head into the direction of the door. 

Duff sat at the table when they entered, looking just as spooked as Izzy felt. They had instilled into him to stay the fuck away from people when he went on his strolls along the cliff, and now he was dragging strangers into the house. 

Jenny put the dish onto the table and removed the cover. 

“I helped,” she said shyly, but obviously proud of the result.

Duff’s eyes went wide at the offering. 

“Hi, I’m Anna. This is Jenny.” 

Anna stretched out a hand and Duff eyed it suspiciously. Then, without taking it, he looked at Izzy, trying to get a clue about what to do. 

“Care to make tea?” Izzy asked softly, and Duff quickly got to work. Tea was pretty much the only thing he could cook. 

“That’s Duff,” Izzy said, not bothering to explain anything further. 

He never did. People had to deal with Duff just as he was, and he would do hell to offer explanations or even make excuses for his behaviour. She was probably wondering who of them was the greater weirdo anyway, and he wouldn’t place any bets on the outcome. He didn’t care. If she told the rest of the village that a bunch of very strange people were living on the cliff, they would hopefully be spared visits from any further neighbours. 

He had to give it to Anna though, she took it in stride. 

“Nice to meet you, Duff,” she said, not offended by the lack of reply.

“Want to sit down?” he asked and motioned at the table. “Sorry, we don’t have … much in here, yet.”

“It’s … comfy,” she said, but she looked a bit disturbed at the scarce interior. “I think this style is called minimalism.”

Izzy snorted. One could call it that, yes. 

“We don’t have anything but tea, either,” he said. 

“Tea is perfect. Just what I had been hoping for.” 

Jenny watched Duff with more curiosity than her mother had. Mouse had joined him at the stove, making sure she was always between her charge and the intruders. 

“Mouse is very protective,” Anna said in a desperate attempt to get the conversation going. “Is she trained or is it just the breed?”

“I guess it’s her personality,” Izzy said. He had picked her at the shelter because she had been the one going absolutely crazy in the kennel, not only barking, but also snapping and growling and jumping against the bars. 

He should probably apologize for the non-existent welcome he had offered, but didn’t feel like it. Was he now supposed to make chit chat? About the weather maybe? He wished for a cigarette, but they didn’t have any. Which was just as well, because trying to light one would have definitely given away his tremors. He shouldn’t bother so much, but it was never good to show weakness around strangers. 

Izzy sighed inwardly. Here he was, scared to death by the approach of a woman and a child. With cupcakes. 

Duff brought the tea over and sat down next to Izzy, trying to get as close as possible. He tucked lightly at his sleeve. Izzy knew he wanted to rub his trembling hand, but this time he couldn’t give in. 

“Just help yourself,” he said and nodded towards the mugs on the table. “We’re pretty informal here.”

“Suits me.” Anna reached for one and apparently noticed that the four mugs they needed, would be one more than they owned. 

“I already had more tea than I can stand in a single day,” Izzy lied. A cigarette would be his first choice, but tea was a close second. Anything to hold on to. Only half of it would end on his shirt anyway. 

Izzy stood up to fetch sugar. He should manage, as it was nothing that could spill over. 

“Sorry, out of milk.”

He noticed that Anna’s look rested briefly on his hands before she quickly averted her eyes. Fuck, she was perceptive. 

Duff in the meanwhile, Mouse sitting next to him, was only looking at one thing: the chocolate frosting covered, chocolate sprinkled, chocolate cupcakes. It had to be his wet dream in pastry form. Izzy couldn’t say who was drooling more, Duff or Mouse. 

“You can have one,” he said. “Anna and Jenny brought them for us, so … go ahead.”

He looked at Jenny, who was drooling just as badly as Duff and Mouse. “You, too?”

She nodded eagerly and reached for one. Deciding to forgo the plates, which he would have to get from the sink, Izzy sat down again. Anna was stirring sugar into her tea while Duff and Jenny destroyed the cupcakes. 

“Dogs can’t have chocolate,” Duff said softly when Mouse nudged at his elbow. “Izzy says so.”

Izzy saw a smile twitch around Anna’s lips and he realized, that he hadn’t even introduced himself. He cleared his throat. 

“Guess that’s me,” he said. “Izzy, I mean: Sorry. Forgot.”

“No problem,” she said. 

“I like chocolate,” Jenny suddenly said to Duff. “Do you like chocolate?”

“I like M&Ms,” Duff replied. 

“Me too!” She exclaimed. 

“The red ones are the best,” they both said in unison and Izzy couldn’t keep it back anymore. He exploded into a hysterical bout of laughter. 

“Sorry,” he said, when he was done. “I really thought this was a unique obsession.”

But Anna was smiling openly now, not anymore as if she expected him to get out an axe and slay them all. 

“I couldn’t help but admire the artwork outside,” she said. 

“That’s Duff’s,” Izzy said. “I think it’s not finished yet.”

“You made it?” Anna asked. 

“Made what?” Duff looked at her with his usual confusion. 

“That huge picture outside. On the lawn.”

Duff cast Izzy a questioning look. For Duff it wasn’t a picture. It was alive. The fish swam, the dolphins jumped and the horde of tiny dogs he had added last Wednesday were an indication that he wasn’t happy about the continuing lack of puppy in their house. But if Izzy was honest, he could really do without a second dog when he barely knew how to feed the current inhabitants.

“The fish,” he said. “Outside.”

“Oh, those,” Duff said. “I like them. But we don’t eat them. We only eat those in the fridge. We eat fish all the time.” 

He looked sorrowful at Anna, and if she was confused about the reply, she didn’t let it show. 

“They’re awesome,” she said. 

“Mouse wants a treat,” Duff announced, when he reached for another cupcake and got nudged again. 

“She ate all of our lunch,” Izzy replied. 

“Yeah.” Duff looked at him as if one thing didn’t have anything to do with the other. “Can she have one?”

“No!” 

“It’s the same at our house,” Anna said. “Can’t leave anything lying around or one of the dogs will get to it.”

“How many dogs do you have?” Izzy asked, not caring to explain that in their case it was not the dog who misbehaved, but the owner. 

“At the moment? 23. We got puppies last week. It was a huge litter. Twelve, all in all.”

Izzy gave Duff a sharp look. 

“When exactly?” he asked, a bit too harshly. 

“Wednesday.” Anna was back to looking slightly wary. 

Of course, it had been Wednesday. He would have to count the puppies in the pebble artwork but he already knew, there would be twelve.

“Maybe you want to come and visit?” she asked nevertheless. “Have a look at the puppies?” 

She looked at Duff and when Izzy saw the smile grow on his face, he knew he was done for. They would visit their neighbours. They would try to behave all nice and social and well-adjusted and fail miserably. And they would eventually come home with a puppy.


	2. Mugcakes

Driving back to the cottage after his shift in Lotz Creek was the most boring thing Slash could think off. It was rivalled only by driving to the shop in the morning. Forest, forest and more forest, now and then a view over the dramatic backsplash of mountains against all that green, and then he was back to driving through … yes … forest. 

If he was in for a special treat, he would almost kill himself by driving over an elk or some other type of wildlife, and if not, then it would happen by falling asleep and landing in a ditch. 

Alaska had been bad enough, but he had thought it would be Anchorage or Fairbanks or some other place that resembled civilization. Not this conglomeration of huts away from everything else. He could have lived with Anchorage, if he absolutely had to. He was not sure he could live with Pollock Cove. 

So why was he still here? He could just leave and start a real life anywhere else. Or as Izzy had put it kindly: ‘Nobody forces you to run after us like a lost puppy, dipshit, pack your shit and shove off, if this is all so beneath yourself!’

And he had almost done just that. 

Every evening he drove home from the shop, determined to find one single reason why he was still putting up with all this, the trees, the dilapidated house, the fish and, yes, also with Izzy. Today he was pondering the same question, determined that tomorrow he would really pack his belongings and leave. 

A moment of inattentiveness caused him to almost miss another stupid animal that strutted over the road as if it owned it. He hit the brakes sharply, and the couch which he had bought for a few bucks at yet another stupid garage sale, clattered dangerously in the bed of the pickup. It was far too big for the truck and he had taken some seriously fucked up backroads to avoid getting spotted by the law while transporting it out of town. 

He always took the freaking hillbilly vehicle, because he was tasked with keeping an eye out for anything that might turn their empty house into something one could actually live in. Not that Izzy’s ride was much better. That thing died on him at least twice a week, the ignition was shot and they had to hotwire the fucker so often, that they didn’t even bother to put the wiring back anymore. If Slash was honest, he wasn’t keen on getting stuck in the middle of …yes … forest, so the truck was the better option. 

Finally, finally he took the turn towards the house and he had to give it to Izzy: the view was nice. Not that they were living here because it was actually ‘nice’. No matter how hard he tried to hide his hang ups, Slash knew that Izzy was struggling. And it would be unfair to leave Duff alone with somebody who was struggling, and it would be just as unfair to leave somebody who was struggling, alone with Duff and, fuck, here he had the explanation of why he wasn’t leaving. Because he loved those two idiots far too much to just abandon them to their fate. 

He spotted the house in the distance and was convinced that he could already smell freaking fish on the grill outside. They always grilled those fuckers on the veranda. The house was smelly enough without adding fish vapours to it. 

At least the roof was repaired, thanks to all those weird talents Izzy would come up with. He not only knew how to repair a roof, he also gutted fish with one single swish of the hand, and split wood with the precision of a lumberjack. At least he hadn’t started to add a vegetable garden to the backyard. Yet.

Izzy still refused to even mention where he had been born, but it was not downtown New York, so much was clear. 

Yes, there would be fish, and they would unload the coach and drag it into the living room and all pile up on top of it. He would show Duff a new riff on the guitar, and Duff would practice it for the remainder of the evening, until Izzy buried his head under a pillow in mute despair. 

To his surprise, Slash caught himself smiling. For the first time ever since Izzy had forced them all to live in that hovel over the ocean, he had the feeling that he was coming home. 

“Hi, Slash,” Duff said from the veranda steps, when he got out of the car. 

“Hi.” Slash first ruffled Mouse’s fur and then Duff’s hair. “How was your day?”

Indeed, the fish was wrapped up in aluminium foil and smouldering away in a heap of charcoal. Izzy, the bastard, knew how to cook fish, too. No wonder he had been so OK with the move to freaking Alaska. Wilderness was his natural habitat. 

Duff smiled and licked something brown from his fingers, something that looked like … frosting?

“We got mugcakes.”

“You mean cupcakes?”

“Maybe,” Duff admitted. “They are all … chocolately.”

“Don’t tell me Izzy has added baking to his numerous talents!” 

“I don’t know,” Duff replied. “I like them.”

He walked past Duff and entered the house and, yes, there was a single cupcake left on what must have been a complete plate full of them. It even looked homemade, with delicate twirls of frosting on top. And chocolate sprinkles over it. In black and white. 

What would Izzy do next? Crochet a granny-square-blanket? Were these first signs of a nervous breakdown? 

“Honey, I’m home!” he yelled. 

“Yeah, I noticed.” Izzy came out of the bedroom, yawning and dressed in … absolutely nothing. 

“Do you want me to cover my eyes?” Slash joked. 

“Why?” Izzy scratched his belly. “You’ve seen me stark naked under the shower every fucking day. You probably know the shape of my dick better than I do myself.”

“Yeah, but back then you were this pale and skinny guy with those creepy creature of the night vibes. Now you start to look fucking good!”

And he did. All the hard work made him fill out. There were actual muscles visible on his arms and abdomen. He was even developing a tan. 

“Is there a reason for this state of undress?” 

Izzy squinted at him before he staggered over to the stove and put the tea kettle on

“Didn’t feel like clothes,” he muttered. 

It was more likely that Duff had felt the urgent need to deliver a blowjob. Or more, but Slash wasn’t going there. The reason was more interesting. Could be that they just had felt like sex, but could also be that Izzy had needed some serious calming down. 

Slash couldn’t help it. He checked out his backside. Yep, Izzy was turning from scary as fuck to fucking hot. 

“Do you need to get laid, Slash?” he asked. “If so, there’s this woman who claims to be our neighbour. She bribed Duff with puppies and cupcakes into liking her. Maybe you can go over and visit when hubby is not at home. If there is a hubby. If you are lucky, it’s just her. And the kid. Might have to make sure the kid is not home either. You’d scar her for life. Anyway, eyes off my ass, OK?”

“Neighbour?” Slash asked confused. “We don’t have neighbours.”

“Apparently we do.” 

Izzy was clearly not awake enough to talk more, but at least it explained the presence of the cupcake. And sadly, also the need for calming down. It was better than imagining Izzy donning a frilly apron and dedicating himself to cupcake production. Lumberjack, elk slaying and fish gutting Izzy was OK. Cake decorating Izzy was an eerie thought. He would insist on matching curtains and throw pillows next. 

That reminded him of something. “I found a couch.”

“Cool,” Izzy poured water over the single tea bag he had put into their teapot. One that looked as if it had been used before, but heavens forbid Duff had to go for a day without M&Ms. “Is it infested with something? Bed bugs? Cockroaches? Rats?” 

“Not that I know.” Slash picked up their mugs to take outside. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

If the weather was nice, they would often sit outside, drink whatever was available, depending on how close they were to payday, and eating grilled fish. Or sometimes hamburgers or even steaks, not only depending on how close they were to payday, but also whether Slash felt like defying Izzy. 

Unlike Slash, Izzy was planning for a future in Alaska, and said things like ‘we need to put some money aside for winter or we’ll freeze to death’. The idea of actually staying was something he couldn’t wrap his mind around. In Slash’s opinion, it would be like it had been everywhere: a couple of months, maybe a summer at this place, and then they would pack up and leave. Only he slowly realized that Izzy had different ideas. And that might be the point from where he would have to let him plough on on his own. 

“We have to go to a barbeque on Saturday,” Izzy said, when they had all found room on the few steps to the veranda. Slash was sitting next to Izzy, while Duff had squeezed himself between Izzy’s knees, head comfortably on his thigh. He was staring into space again, but whatever world he was currently traveling seemed to be a benign one. There was a soft smile on his face while he roamed through his alternate reality. 

“With that mugcake woman?” Slash asked. Were they now making friends? He tried to picture Izzy in shorts and polo shirt at a family barbeque. The image was about as unsettling as Izzy decorating cupcakes. 

“No, my boss. His kids are visiting. He keeps nagging me about it, so I said, OK. And that I’d bring the beer.”

“What’s that to do with me?” Slash asked. 

“He wants you to come, too. And Duff. And Mouse, probably. The whole family.”

Slash gave Izzy an irritated glance. “So what? I’m your wife and Duff is our child?”

“Nah.” Izzy sipped his tea. “Duff is my spouse, you’re the child.”

Slash shoved him and Izzy snickered. 

“I don’t know, man. I have the feeling they have realized we’re not going anywhere, and now they need to check us out. Barbeque, cupcakes. Probably to make sure we won’t kill their children, or some shit.”

It should be enough to make Izzy run for cover, not go along with it. 

“So, let me get this straight. We are going to visit your boss to eat more fish … I assume it will be fish?”

“And elk.”

Slash rolled his eyes. It was getting better and better. “… when fish is already coming out of all our ears anyway. We will meet people we should better not meet, ‘cause runaway madmen and all that, and although you and me will likely be the only two abstinent people in this whole mess, we’re the ones who will bring the beer?”

“I’ll get some non-alcoholic, too.”

“Dude, I don’t think they even sell that here.”

Izzy shrugged. He looked unhappy with the whole situation, so why hadn’t he said ‘no’? Because Izzy was really planning to stay, that’s why. And he knew, if he wanted to stay, he had to at least attempt to appear like a normal person, and the normal and average American citizen liked a good barbeque with friends and family. Good luck with that. 

“Ok,” Slash said. 

“Ok?” Izzy asked surprised. 

“You don’t think I’ll let you run into the lion’s den all on your own, do you? Somebody has to have an eye on you. Anyway, I suppose it would be a good idea. You need to learn social behaviour, dude. And we can’t have Duff turn into the same kind of hermit you are. He needs contact with kids of his own age group, or he’ll grow up and be all weird.”

Izzy bent forward, pretending that he urgently needed to kiss Duff onto the top of his head, but by now Slash knew him well enough. He was hiding his relief inside the blond-black disaster-mop. Because Izzy, no matter how much he pretended to give a shit about anything, had absolutely no idea how to deal with people. He knew how to make sure they kept a safe distance, he knew how to threaten them into compliance, he knew how to pretend to be cool and indifferent, but as soon as he was faced with the unsurmountable task of being ‘nice’, he was at a loss. Except with Duff. When it came to Duff, his gentleness knew no limits. 

“Fish,” Slash said and eyed the aluminium foil with resignation. “What are we going to have with it?” 

Only now did he notice that there was … nothing. Usually Izzy had dinner ready when he came home, just as Slash made sure before leaving that Duff would have something to eat for lunch. Maybe he had been too tired today to prepare anything.

“Nothing,” Izzy confirmed. “Mouse ate all the bread ….”

“Duff!” Slash groaned. 

“…and we’re out of potatoes and I have no idea why. And we had the rest of the pasta for lunch. We still have a few eggs left, but if we eat those, we won’t have anything for breakfast and I can’t do a whole shift on an empty stomach, sorry. I’ll fall overboard and where would you all be then, huh? So, it’s fish today. And nothing else.”

“We still have a mugcake,” Duff said. 

“Fish with mugcake sounds awesome,” Izzy confirmed. “Forget it, guys, bring on the plates.”

At least the fish was big enough to feed them all, and so Slash decided that complaining further was not worth it. He had lived off less and worse food during his runaway days. 

When it turned too cold to stay outside, they dragged the couch in. It was so big, it hardly fit through the door. When they had finally found a place, Slash had to admit, it looked really good. 

“Awesome catch,” Izzy said and flopped down on it. 

Duff followed suit, of course, and Slash took the last free spot. 

“So how is it going with Mandy, the clarinettist?” Izzy asked. 

“Oboist,” Slash corrected. 

“She been back?”

“Yesterday. To buy more sheet music.”

And to chat to him, although classical music clearly wasn’t his forte. But he had watched her lips and her cheeks, when she had tried out the new oboe she had ordered. Her technique had given him a whole new appreciation for woodwind instruments. Hopefully getting laid wasn’t as far in the future as Izzy seemed to think, but she was playing a bit hard to get. 

“Play some,” Izzy said and motioned towards the guitar. “Fucker was expensive enough, you should get some use out of it.”

Slash grinned. If he didn’t start playing, then Duff would soon ask for lessons and they would spend the rest of the evening listening to the same three chords again and again. So he picked up the guitar and started some simple fingerpicking. Duff watched with rapture, as always. They should to get at least a radio, ‘cause Izzy would blow a gasket if he spent money on a stereo and CDs. But Duff urgently needed an in-depth introduction to decent music. He had an ear for it, and also a good feeling for rhythm and it sucked that he shouldn’t know any of all of those awesome songs out there.

After a while, Izzy fell asleep. Duff shifted him carefully into his lap and braided his dreads into … thicker dreads. They should not only get a radio, but also a camera. He would get blackmail material for a lifetime out of those two. 

An hour later, Slash was still playing, Izzy woke up again and struggled out of Duff’s grasp. 

“I need some sleep,” he muttered. “I have to be up in … ugh.”

Slash watched him stumble half asleep into the general direction of his bed. Duff, of course, followed. He would never miss a chance to crawl into bed with Izzy. And so, as was often the case, he remained alone in the living room. Most of the time it was OK, but sometimes, when he watched Duff and Izzy in their domestic bliss, he started to feel lonely. And then he had to think about Axl. 

As weird as it sounded, he missed Axl, his snarky comments about each and everybody, his fatalist view of the world outside, the vulnerability that was so often shining through the fake-tough exterior and even the complaining, the whining and, yes, the screaming. 

And so, Slash did what he had so often done, when he was left alone in the living room: he pulled a notepad and a pen out of his bag and started to write.

 _Hi Axl,_

So far, he had never gotten any further, had torn off the sheet and tossed it into the waste bin. But tonight, was different. Maybe it was because he felt as if he was finally growing some roots, no matter how much he refused to do so. Somehow, he thought, that if they were all staying at this place, then Axl should be here, too. 

_Hi Axl,_

_I don’t know if you will read this letter. Probably not. But in case you do: I miss you. You were the best roommate I could have hoped for, and I don’t know what I would have done without you._

_If you ever change your mind and decide to see me, let me know. I’ll come and visit. And that’s one hell of a promise because for reasons I still can’t fathom, I agreed to move to Alaska._

_Yes, you read that right._

_A while ago I happened to run into a couple of old friends._

Slash chewed on the pen. He couldn’t give Duff’s and Izzy’s names and he had to make sure they were not recognizable in this letter, but still recognizable enough for Axl to understand who he was talking about. As far as he knew, letters were not read by the staff at St. John’s, but one could never be too careful. 

_As you don’t know them, I guess I have to tell you a bit. First there is Jeff and then there’s Michael._

Those were Izzy’s and Duff’s fake new names. Jeff and Michael, who preferred to be called by their weird nicknames. Getting Duff to use new names would have been impossible, so they hadn’t even tried. Slash was no expert regarding fake documents, but names and security numbers had been gleaned by the true and tried method of identity theft. There hadn’t been much of a selection. 

_Jeff thinks he is Napoleon and has this annoying habit to never be swayed when he has made a decision. It was his idea to move to Alaska, and of course, here we are. Michael, on the other hand, is the sweetest guy in the world. He loves dogs and chocolate and, strangely enough, Jeff._

_Sometimes I wonder why I’m here with them, as they’re so obviously enough for each other. Shouldn’t I go and live my own life? But then I wonder, what would this life look like? I managed to stay clean so far, fuck, I don’t even smoke anymore, but is that all there is?_

_Yeah, so you see, I’m rambling. I wish you were here to tell me that I’m an idiot._

_Slash_

He looked at the scribbled nonsense and ripped the page off the notepad, ready to crumple it and toss it into the waste bin. But then he smoothed the sheet out and looked at it again. He folded it into a neat square and stuffed it into his bag. He would have to get an envelope tomorrow. 

+++

When Slash woke the next morning, Duff was curled up in bed next to him. It meant that Izzy was already out, and living the wild and exciting life of a hunter and gatherer, and Duff hadn’t felt like being left alone. Sometimes he went outside with Mouse and came back drenched in morning dew, sometimes he would sit on the steps and stare into space, but sometimes, mostly when something was bothering him, he joined Slash. 

“Breakfast?” Slash asked when Duff stretched next to him before standing up. 

He had never seemed this tall at St. John’s, where he had walked around with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes in an attempt to hide from his demons. Out here, just like Izzy, he seemed to grow. He was standing straight, his head up, his shoulders squared and, fuck, Duff was really a tall guy. 

“I can make tea,” Duff said. 

Duff, at least, wouldn’t reuse the teabags until all they gave off was a bit of weak colour and zero taste.

“Awesome. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

‘The rest’ was one egg per person, but he caught Duff in time when he started picking pieces out of the pan to feed them to Mouse. 

“She asked,” he mumbled apologetically, but Slash felt no remorse. The freaking dog was fed better than they were, because in Izzy’s book you took care of your animals first. Probably some leftover ethos from his days as a cowboy on a cattle ranch, or wherever he had grown up. He would find out eventually, and if it took him a decade.

It was Slash’s free day, and he spent the morning teaching Duff the chords to the opening riff of AC/DC’s TNT. Duff practiced faithfully until it was time to leave and pick up Izzy from the port. Izzy would get his pay today, meaning, they would be able to buy food. 

It was the first time they would do that together, because Izzy had thought it might be a good idea to give his boss a warning regarding Duff. Just showing up with him on Saturday might make things a bit uncomfortable. Most people warmed quickly to Duff, but he took a moment of getting used to. 

They were early, and as Slash had no idea when exactly Izzy’s boat would come in, they used the time to stroll along the rocky beach. Duff collected pebbles and shells, but dropped them all when they spotted a group of seals enjoying the sun on a sandbank. It kept Duff busy until Slash noticed a couple of trawlers return to the port. Not sure if Izzy’s was one of them, he waited until they had reached the shore before he pried Duff lose from the seals. 

He urgently needed new boots, Slash thought absent mindedly while they walked back. All that climbing over rocks and padding through salt water puddles he did day in day out, had torn out part of the seams, and, which was the bigger problem, caused the soles to come off. Izzy had first tried to glue them back on with superglue and had then resorted to duck tape. Duff didn’t mind, but it wouldn’t keep for much longer. 

When they reached the quay, Duff spotted Izzy, but instead of expressing his usual delight upon his return, he froze in shock. 

“No!” he gasped. “No! Izzy!” and then, before Slash had a chance to react, he ran. 

Izzy turned around in surprise when Duff grabbed him by his arm and frantically tried to pull him away from … whatever. Slash had never seen him this agitated. 

An older man, probably Izzy’s boss, watched the scene in astonishment. And he wasn’t the only one. There was only a handful of people, but they were now all staring at Duff and Izzy. 

Then Slash realized what the problem was: the nettings. There had been one monster within Duff’s selection of nightmare creatures, which had consisted of a net that could shape into different forms. Izzy, Slash realized, remembered, too. 

“It’s OK,” he said and caught Duff with one hand on the back of his neck. “It’s OK, Duff. Nothing dangerous about it. Get a grip, will you?” Izzy tried to get eye contact and eventually Duff looked down at him. 

He breathed heavily, eyes flickering to the nets every other second, but he had stopped making a scene. Izzy rubbed his nape for a moment before he let him go, only keeping his wrist in his hand like a parent would hold on to an upset child. 

“Duff, this is Arne, my boss” Izzy said. “Arne, this is Duff. My housemate. One of them, the other one is over there.”

Slash had approached them slowly, not wanting to add to the drama. 

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Slash. I live with these two idiots.”

They shook hands, but Arne was still a bit distracted by Duff’s dramatic entry. 

“Still want us over on Saturday?” Izzy asked wryly, unobtrusively shielding Duff with his body from both, his boss and the nets. 

“Why, chickening out on me?” Arne asked back. He cast Duff a bemused look, then followed his gaze, and seemed to realize that the problem was not with him, but somewhere onboard. “Ever been on a trawler? Like to have a closer look? It’s not as dangerous as it seems to be from afar.” 

He said it matter of factly, as if it was normal that people freaked out at the sight of a fishing net. Duff didn’t look at him. He was in a state of mind where Izzy was the only person still able to get through to him. 

“Good idea. Come on. Duff?” Izzy pointed at the gangway, outwardly cool, but Slash noticed that his hands had lost quite a bit of their steadiness. Duff’s attack had startled him. 

Duff looked horrified at the idea, but when Izzy just went back onboard, he followed, not willing to leave his hero to get caught by the fishing net demon. 

“Nice kid. Bit skittish, huh? What scared him?” Arne asked. “The boat?”

“The nets,” Slash said.

“Ah,” Arne replied as if it made perfect sense. “Guess having a closer look might solve the problem, then.”

He looked after Duff and Izzy.

“You guys have to drive out with us. Can’t have somebody be scared of boats around here. Or nets. Best get you guys all used to it.” 

He continued stacking up his crates onto a cart, and Slash decided to help him, until Izzy was done giving Duff the tour. 

“You’re all coming on Saturday, right?” Arne asked when they were done and Duff was still busy with timidly touching the nets. “There are a few sunny days coming up, so we can plan that trip. Do you think he would like to see the whales?”

Duff would be delighted to see whales, given how he reacted to seals and seabirds and pretty much anything else. 

“You sure you want to have us?” Slash asked with a smirk. They were not exactly what one might consider polite company. 

Arne looked over to Duff. “Izzy’s never mentioned…” he broke off and Slash braced himself for the ‘what is wrong with him’ question. It didn’t come. 

“See you on Saturday,” he said instead with a curt nod. “Make sure Izzy really comes. I know he’s looking for excuses, so tell him, if he’s suddenly suffering from migraine or has to visit his sick aunt, I know he’s lying.” 

They said good-bye, and he wheeled off his catch. 

“That was quite the debut,” Izzy said when they were finally back. He had his hand stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “Ready?”

Slash nodded. “Hopefully they’ll let you into the shop smelling like that.” 

Izzy cast him a dark look. “This is a fishermen’s village,” he said. “Everybody smells like this. You’re the one not fitting in, smelling of lilies and roses.”

Duff sniffed at Slash and looked a bit confused. 

“There were roses at … that place,” he finally finished. He always called St John’s ‘that place’. “They didn’t smell like Slash.”

“No?” Izzy led the way towards the first of all of two stores the village sported. “Then it’s time somebody breeds them. Slash-smelling roses.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Slash mumbled. With the way things came true as soon as they had left Duff’s head, Slash-smelling roses were a realistic possibility. 

Pollock Cove was the proud owner of both, a general store and a hardware store. The hardware store sold hardware, the general store everything else. It was a warehouse full of shelves, stuffed to the brim with not only groceries, but also fishing gear, outdoor clothing, hunting equipment, toys, books, furniture, and, strangely enough, wedding gowns. Slash couldn’t stop wondering how many wedding dresses a village like Pollock Cove would need per year, but there was at least a dozen of them hanging off a clothes rack, next to potatoes that were sold by the bushel. 

Duff had never been inside the shop and looked at it all in rapt fascination. His fingers travelled carefully over gumboots, porcelain figurines, stuffed animals and a huge grandfather clock. Izzy gave him time, before he steered him away from temptation and into the grocery section. 

“Chocolate?” Duff asked, but Izzy shook his head. “We’re a bit low,” he said apologetically. “When Slash gets his payment end of the week, he’ll buy you some.” 

“Let him have some freaking M&Ms,” Slash said, when Duff was out of earshot. 

“I would, but he keeps feeding our groceries to the fucking dog,” Izzy hissed. “There won’t be cigarettes either. Or coffee or anything else like that, just to be clear. He can wait until Friday. Fuck, he has to wait until Friday.” 

Slash relented, not only because the elderly woman at the checkout was looking at them. 

It was at least partly his fault that they were so tight. The guitar had eaten up a lot more than they could reasonably afford, and he would have to fork over half of his wages for another three weeks until it was truly paid off. In addition, he wasn’t really good at keeping his money together. When he got his weekly pay, usually part of it went right away to stuff Izzy considered unnecessary. But, fuck, it was his pay, and he wasn’t OK with handing it over to Izzy to be assigned to toilet paper and groceries and fucking dishwashing detergent.

Then there were the cars, which they absolutely needed, but which had destroyed everything they had put aside. The truck especially was a horrible gas guzzler. In addition, Izzy was already stacking up on firewood for the winter. They would also need to get warmer clothes eventually. Or clothes in general. He looked at Duff’s boots again, the silvery duck tape a stark contrast against the scuffed leather.

It had taken Slash longer than he liked to admit, until he had understood why Izzy made such a fuss about money. Duff never asked for much, he was happy and at ease, but Izzy felt as if he was failing him. St. John’s may have been hell, but at least it had provided for their basic needs. Izzy had taken Duff away from there to live in an unheated hovel, run around in rags, and eat fish day in day out. And now he couldn’t even buy him freaking chocolate. 

“You’ll also have to get the beer on Friday. It’s cheaper in Lotz. Can you do that or will that drive you over the edge?”

“I can,” Slash said. Going into a liquor shop would be a bit more than he could handle, but buying a few six packs of beer should be manageable. 

Another thing he would buy in Lotz Creek was lube. He had seen Izzy eye the shelf and then walk on. He wouldn’t put it past him that he decided fish oil was a good substitute. 

Even without chocolate, their cart was depressingly empty. It contained just the absolute basics, plus some extras to keep them from dying from scurvy. 

Slash thought back and tried to remember the last time when Izzy had bought anything for himself. He couldn’t come up with a single incident. Izzy may keep talking about cigarettes, as if he was just weathering a dry spell, but in reality, he had given up on smoking. It just wasn’t within their means anymore. 

They went to the check out and the woman behind the counter seemed extremely pleased to see them. 

“Anna said you liked chocolate,” she said to Duff, after they had bagged their purchases. So, she had been listening in on them, nosy bitch. 

Izzy forked over the money with an expression, as if he was cutting a kidney out of his body. 

“Yeah,” Duff replied. “But we only eat fish.”

“Anna?” Slash asked.

“Neighbour,” Izzy mumbled. “Mugcakes.”

“She’s my eldest. Eldest of three girls.” the woman declared. “First one to provide me with a grandchild. The only one so far, too.” 

She eyed them as if she tried to assess whether one of them might be suitable for future grandchild production. 

“Nice kid,” Izzy said, but he was looking at Duff, who was now pressed against him. “Jenny.”

“Yes, she is. I take care of Jenny sometimes, when Anna is working and her father can’t take her. Or doesn’t want to,” she added a bit miffed. 

So, the cupcake bearing neighbour was indeed single. 

The cashier, ‘Anna’s Mom’, Slash reminded himself, took a chocolate bar out of the display next to the cashier and handed it to Duff. He took it hesitantly and with an unsure look into Izzy’s direction. Izzy just shrugged and slowly Duff started to smile one of his extra radiant smiles. Slash knew, he would from now on get a treat each and every time they entered this shop. 

“Thanks,” Izzy said. “I guess, we’ll be on our way, then.”

No, Slash thought. Izzy really had no idea about how to be nice to people. 

“Don’t tell me that’s normal,” Izzy grumbled when they were outside again. “First cupcakes, now this. And on Saturday we have to go to a fucking barbeque.”

“It’s called ‘social behaviour’,” Slash replied. “Really, Iz, you should try it sometimes. You might find out you actually like it.”

“It’s not normal!” Izzy insisted. 

“Maybe they’re trying to be welcoming.”

Izzy looked at him as if he had grown a second head. 

“I come from a place like this,” he said, which, Slash realized, was the first time Izzy ever provided information about his past. He really had to be unsettled, if he had forgotten. “People in places like these are not welcoming if three guys like us move into town. If you’re married with kids and a new car, sure, that’s different, but us? They make sure to keep a healthy distance. That’s what I had been counting on. We stay away from them, they stay away from us. Why do people suddenly try to … dunno … what the fuck are they trying to do?”

Slash snorted. “They are trying to integrate us. Took them a while, yes. But they’ve probably come to the conclusion that we’re here to stay. So they have decided to be nice and get to know us.”

“What for?” Izzy exclaimed. 

It was moments like these that made Slash think he knew why Izzy had been committed to St. John’s. He really took paranoia to the next level. 

“To lure you into a false sense of security, and sell your organs on the black market,” he replied. “Really, Izzy, chill a bit, will you? They are being nice. Period. There are no hidden motives behind it.”

Izzy hmphed, but didn’t argue anymore. 

They would go to the barbeque, Slash decided. Yes, he hadn’t been thrilled himself, but one of them really needed some social exposure. And it was not Duff.


	3. Hussies

Saturday came, and Izzy still hadn’t found an excuse to skip the blasted barbeque. He had counted on Slash being helpful with inventing some urgent emergency, but Slash was all of a sudden totally committed to the idea. Duff didn’t care either way. He had been happy when Slash had provided him with M&Ms. 

They also had to pay Anna a visit to return the stupid cupcake tray, sooner or later. That was why people brought food, he thought angrily, so that you had to return the dishes to them and thus start a never-ending sequence of visits. And he would have to take Duff along to see the puppies, which would lead to getting a second one, which would lead to even more of their food going literally to the dogs. His current hope was that they definitely couldn’t afford a purebred sled dog.

At least the weather was nice enough to spend the day on outside repairs. They would have to get a move on, if they wanted to have the house ready come winter. While he was hammering away, Izzy considered inflicting some serious damage on himself to get out the barbeque. But Slash would likely see through the ruse and drag him over even if he was lacking a few fingers. 

It was late afternoon, when they went on their way. Arne’s sprawling timber cottage was situated closer to the village. There was a chaotic yard around it, which made Izzy feel at least a little bit welcome and a dog came running as soon as the car stopped. Of course, he thought, everybody had a dog here.

Arne’s children Lilah and Eric, were already there, and, to Izzy’s horror, also Eric’s wife Renee, his teenage children Rebecca and Simon, Anna and Jenny and what had to be Anna’s two younger sisters, Lisa and Jane. 

“I heard you’ve already met Anna, so I invited her,” Arne said. “And the other Wojcik women, of course. Their Mom owns the village shop.”

Izzy forced a smile, but was sure it came out more like a grimace. They were handed around and introduced, and just when he started to feel utterly exhausted already, they were sat down and provided with drinks and food. 

Unlike Mouse, Arne’s husky was of the gregarious kind, and so Duff had something to do. He petted the dog’s fluffy fur, and was eventually joined by Jenny. As the only child of the party she was probably a bit bored. 

“I came by your house, yesterday,” Lilah said, balancing a plate full of hotdogs in one hand and a huge salad bowl in the other. She was tall and blond, just like her father and her brother. 

To Slash’s delight they wouldn’t have to eat more fish, if they absolutely didn’t want to. There were hot dogs and steaks and hamburgers. Izzy wasn’t sure who was supposed to eat all that, and hoped there wouldn’t be more guests later. He hardly managed to tolerate those who were already there. 

“You’ve put in a lot of work.”

“Is it that obvious?” Izzy asked. It hadn’t been that much. Apart from the roof, they were now busy exchanging the rotting parts of the floor and wood panelling. They had also put up support beams to keep the veranda from crashing onto their heads. It looked all a little weird, but as long as it kept them dry, he wouldn’t complain. 

“Oh yes!” Lilah said. “When Dad told me that somebody was living in there, I couldn’t believe it. As kids we would go over after each storm and look if the house was still there. It was pretty much inhabitable.” She blushed as if she hadn’t meant to say that much. 

“Yeah, it still kind of is,” Slash said with a grin.

“It’s not that bad,” Izzy said with a dark look into his direction. “It really isn’t. Slash is just being whiny.” 

“Just wait until the autumn storms decide to grace us,” Eric jumped in. “Can get pretty uncomfortable and what seems OK doing summer, when you’re outside a lot, suddenly really turns into inhabitable.” 

“Guess we’ll just have to find a free weekend to add in some fatigue duty and get it winterproof,” Arne said. 

Izzy gave him an incredulous look. It was probably just said and not meant, but why suggest it at all? He was Arne’s paid labourer, not his charity case. 

“You won’t manage it all on your own. No way. What did John even say when he rented that hovel to you?”

Izzy shrugged. “We’re getting the material,” he said. “And we’re not paying rent, so… I guess it’s fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Anna said. “Really not. You may not know, but rent around here is non-existent. It’s not a touristy place, so they can’t fix up the old houses and rent them to weekenders. The work you’ve put in is already worth more than you would have paid for any decent house around here. And John knows that. He’s a bit of a bastard sometimes. We all know it, so it’s OK if he tries with us. But he’s taking advantage of you.” 

Izzy did know, but he didn’t care to make a drama about it either. It was his intention to be quiet and unobtrusive, not get into a quarrel with his landlord. And he had wanted to live in that house because it had been the only one with 360° panorama view on intruders. 

She looked over to Duff in his ill-fitting thrift store clothes and taped up boots, and Izzy’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

He was well aware that they looked like a bunch of hobos. He and Slash were usually able to find something at least fitting, but Duff’s long legs and narrow hips were another case. The pair of jeans he wore, whom was he kidding, the one he owned, was only holding up due to a combination of belt and suspenders. They would have to add several layers once winter was there and while he didn’t care much about looks, it was worrying him. It was unbelievable how money was running through their fingers. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Arne said. “He needs to cough up a bit more than just timber. I bet the wiring and installations needs to be at least partly replaced. How’s the heating?”

“Which heating?” Slash asked. 

“We have a wood stove,” Izzy said. “It works OK.”

He was feeling steamrollered. What was this all about? He looked once more over to Duff and Jenny who were still petting the husky. For Duff it was probably really just about the dog, he often rubbed Mouse’s fur for as long as she would tolerate it, but for Jenny, it seemed to be more about Duff. She was sitting closer to him than before, and now and then she said something to him. Duff would look at her all earnestly, and then probably answer with something weird. If it didn’t make any sense to her, she didn’t let on. But maybe they understood each other. 

“That’s not gonna cut it,” one of Anna’s sisters, Lisa was her name, if he remembered correctly, exclaimed. “You won’t survive winter with just a wood stove. You would have to keep it going all night or your pipes will freeze.”

“I guess we’ll manage somehow,” Izzy brought out feebly. Maybe this was about putting them off enough that they left again. That, at least, would make some sense to him. 

“Me and Lilah are staying over the weekend,” Eric said. “How about we’ll come over tomorrow and look what needs to be done?”

“Good idea!” Arne said, before Izzy could state his objections. “We’ll make a list and I’ll bring it up with John.”

Izzy watched it all with glum resignation. This was not normal behaviour. No matter what Slash said, he was absolutely sure of it. Something was wrong here and it was not just his internalized paranoia. Nobody was that nice to a group of ragged strangers who happened to be blown into their village. 

Jenny had come over once the first batch of hotdogs was ready for consumption, and Izzy excused himself by getting some food over to Duff. It wasn’t likely that he would think about eating on his own, but if there was the chance to feed him something besides their monotonous diet, then he wouldn’t let it pass unused. 

“You good?” he asked when he sat down next to him and put the plate into his lap. 

“This is Gina,” he said. “She’s a hussy.”

“Husky,” Izzy corrected softly. “Although, I don’t know her, maybe she’s a hussy, too.”

“Probably,” Duff said. He picked up a hot dog wrapped into a bun and bit into it. “Jenny’s got lots of hussies at home.”

“Huskies,” Izzy corrected again. People might react irritated, if Duff kept claiming that the Wojcik women were hussies.

“Just what I said. This is nice, too.” He held up the hot dog. “It’s not fish.” 

“No,” Izzy said. He put his arm around Duff’s shoulder, and Duff was able to at the same time snuggle up to him and devour his food. “I’m sorry about all the fish.”

“Don’t be. I like fish.” Duff smiled at him. “Just not always.” 

He was done in record speed, and put his plate down. Then he took Izzy’s hand into his own, and began to rub. Izzy hadn’t even noticed that it had started to tremble a little. It wasn’t much and he was positive that nobody had picked up on it. He let him do it, and after a few minutes, the tremors subsided. He still stayed next to Duff, unable to return to the group of people at the table, the talk, the laughter and the creepy offers of help. 

Slash was busy chatting up one of the Wojcik sisters. Good for him, Izzy thought. He was the only one of them who could get an actual life. If he started doing just that, he got his blessing. 

Days were long in June and it was close to midnight, when they were sent home with a wagon load of leftovers; none of them fish. They would live off steaks and hot dogs and potato salad and coleslaw for at least a week. He had gotten out of a ton of frozen elk by stating their lack of a freezer. He didn’t even know how to cook elk. 

Slash was delighted. He had scored Jane’s telephone number, which might add to his elated mood. Good bye to Mandy, the oboist. Izzy wasn’t sure what it would help him, because they didn’t have a telephone themselves, and visiting her was probably faster than finding one. As far as he knew, the next public phone box was in Lotz Creek. 

“Do you still think this is all normal?” Izzy asked when they were back on the road to their inhabitable hovel of a house that would soon by crowded by well-meaning neighbours.

“Uhm … OK. A bit over the top, maybe.”

“See?” At least now Slash was getting it. “So, what the fuck do they want? I mean, why do they need to get into the house?”

“To look at the giant ‘WANTED’ poster of you that you’ve pinned at the wall. Jesus Christ, Izzy, they are just trying to help.”

“Nobody is just trying to help,” Izzy gave back. How naïve could one person be? 

“OK. “Slash was driving and took the bend with a bit too much energy. “Let’s say … ,” he added when they were all sitting upright again, “what’s the worst-case scenario?”

“They found out who we are and need proof,” Izzy said. 

“Right…,” Slash drawled. “Wouldn’t they just call the cops on us?”

Izzy shrugged. “Maybe nobody took them serious.”

“A photo of you or Duff would be enough. Easy to take without you even noticing.”

Izzy shuddered. Maybe staying in one place hadn’t been as great an idea as he had thought. But all the moving around wasn’t good for Duff. Yes, he was pretty easy that way, had never complained when Izzy had uprooted him again and again, but he still couldn’t deny that Duff was doing better up here than he ever had before. He let his head drop back against the headrest and wished his life was a bit less complicated. 

“Wanna hear my worst-case scenario?” Slash asked. 

“No,” Izzy replied. 

“Pity. You’ll still get it. Here it is. Arne is aware that he’s paying you a fucking pittance for all the slave labour you’re doing for him. But he can’t pay you more, and maybe he’s even feeling a bit guilty about it ‘cause he’s a nice guy. Which he is. And he’s worried that some other fisherman will pick up on it and entice you away with better pay or more free fish or whatever. So, he’s decided to help you out with the house.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Izzy said. It wasn’t even that ridiculous, but that was far from a worst-case scenario. 

“Yeah, probably. ‘Cause you know what I really think?”

“No!” It wouldn’t help, Slash would tell anyway. 

“Arne is a nice guy and he genuinely likes you. A bit like the son who didn’t run off to Anchorage, but stayed to keep the business going with him.”

Izzy snorted. He was working for the man and listened to all his stories during the long hours on the trawler. That was all. 

“And Anna is nice, too, by the way. And they’ve realized that we’re a fucking charity case. ‘cause that’s what we are, Izzy. And then there’s Duff, looking to all the world like something out of a Charles Dickens novel. They don’t know that he’s happier here with you than he probably has ever been in his life. They just see the weird hairdo and the ragged outfit and how he talks about us only eating fish. Which is what we do, but that’s beside it.”

“Come to the point,” Izzy growled. He knew himself that he was doing a pisspoor job at taking care of Duff, he didn’t need Slash to rub it in. 

“Yeah, fucking point is: they have taken pity on you. ‘cause they see that you’re working really hard, and doing your best and I know you don’t want to hear it, but people will give you fucking brownie points for taking care of Duff the way you do.”

“Duff is not a burden,” Izzy growled, quickly looking back to make sure Duff wasn’t listening. But Duff had this far away expression that indicated, where ever he was, it was not in the car with him and Slash. He hated it if people gave him this pitying look, as if he was doing something heroic by burdening himself with Duff’s wellbeing. Not for one moment since their escape had he wished he’d left him behind. 

“Exactly!” Slash exclaimed. “And that shows in each and every interaction between you two. Jane said you had asked around for a second job, and fuck Izzy, why don’t I know that, huh?”

“Because I’m not getting one anyway,” he replied. Duh, as if it was so easy to find work at all at this place and for him it was extra difficult. He had hoped for some type of paid work in somebody’s backyard, maybe. He started early, after all, he got most of the afternoon off. 

“Yeah, so maybe people think you shouldn’t get a second job, and instead be at home with Duff to spend some time being this freakishly adorable couple that you are.”

“I’m not adorable!” Izzy snapped. 

Duff, sure, he was adorable as hell, but that was just Duff. And people didn’t know that they were a couple. He was careful that way. Being gay would be bad enough in such a small place, being gay with somebody like Duff a disaster. They might call the cops on them, to free Duff out of his clutches. He didn’t even buy fucking lube in Pollock Cove, for exactly that reason. Three single guys in a house was enough to make people curious, but he had learned one thing: as long as they didn’t rub it into anybody’s face, people might gossip, but in the end, they would leave them alone. 

“Shut up, Izzy, you are!” 

Slash, it seemed, was on a roll. The guy never said a word in pretty much ever, did he really have to get into a tirade like that at midnight, after he had been forced through gruelling hours of socialization and was only yearning for his bed? 

“If I had a camera, I’d make a photo novel out of the two of you and sell it to some magazine. Point is, you’re taking on a whole fucking lot and they see that you are struggling. And they know you won’t accept help if offered, so they have ganged up on you. And, if you want my opinion, which I know you don’t, but which you’ll get anyway: fucking let them! They’re a bunch of truly nice people and they want to help us. And we fucking need help.”

“Slash…”

“Let me finish, I said! They have one thing right: if you want to stay here, Izzy, then you won’t manage on your own. This place won’t just give way to your stubbornness. It will roll over you and fucking destroy you. Come winter, we’ll be lost. So, let these weirdly nice people help us repair the fucking house, and let them give us food and whatever else they want to do to help. It’s that or accept defeat and pack up.”

Izzy had a reply on his tongue, but he swallowed it. Slash hardly ever talked this much and if he did, then Izzy had learned to at least think about what he was saying before he rejected it. 

“Can’t do anything against it anyway,” he muttered. “They’ll knock down the door, if I tried to.”

“Good! I’ll help you take down all the ‘Wanted’ posters.”

Izzy showed him the finger, but the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Slash was right. Nobody needed to go through so much trouble to find proof about who they were. It left the question why they were suddenly so invested into helping them. Definitely not because they liked him so much. People didn’t like him. He wasn’t the likeable type. Duff was something else, but until a couple of days ago nobody had known about Duff. So that wasn’t the reason either. 

Izzy stared into the twilight. It was about as dark as it would get, which was never fully black at this time of the year. There was already a sliver of light at the horizon again and he liked it this way. Sure, winter would be just the other way round, but right now, it was beautiful. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here, with Duff, in their inhabitable hovel of a house out on the cliff, and if that meant, that he had to allow a bunch of crazy people to invade his privacy, then he would suffer through it. Somehow. 

He looked back to where Duff was still looking out of the window. He wouldn’t fail him. After all he had put him through, he owed him a home. And he would make sure that he got it. 

+++

The charity brigade arrived on Sunday afternoon. Anna, Jenny and Jane had joined the party, bearing cupcakes, of course. And a freezer. 

“It was just standing around,” Jane said. 

Slash started to like her. They had talked quite a bit after Izzy had cleared off to cuddle with Duff and the dog and had so obviously needed to not be talked to for a while. She had understood. All of them had, somehow. 

Mouse was barking her head off at all the people. She got seriously concerned when she realized, that she wouldn’t be able to keep everybody under control at the same time. Izzy gave her a bone that would keep her occupied for a while, and after being torn between doing her job and indulging herself, she eventually gave up. It didn’t keep her from giving everybody the evil eye, while chewing away. 

Izzy was nervous, but Slash doubted that anybody else would notice. He was hiding it well, hands in his pockets whenever it got too much, but not too often. Duff, on the other hand, was warming up to the strangers. He sat on the porch, munching on a cupcake, and watched curiously how the troop marched around the house and through the house and praised their previous work. Slash kept a bit to the side. He wasn’t the handyman and if he helped at all, then mainly by handing tools and nails and screws to Izzy. And taking the brunt of his bad temper when things didn’t work out the way he had planned. This wasn’t his baby and he didn’t pretend it to be. 

“Is Duff Izzy’s brother?” Jane asked. She had joined him at the sideline, standing a bit closer than was necessary. It was a phony question, one to break the ice because nobody could probably take Izzy and Duff for brothers. But while yesterday Slash had been cool about talking to her, he now was back to feeling as if he had swallowed his tongue. It was situations like these that made him wish for some chemical assistance to loosen up a bit. 

“No, they’re just friends,” Slash said a little helplessly. How did you explain something like Duff and Izzy? “From … way back. They knew each other already when I met them.”

She didn’t pry though, just like nobody had pried the day before, like nobody asked what Duff’s problem was or why they were here in the first place. It was really a little weird, now that he thought about it. Maybe Arne had given them pointers that Izzy was a deeply private person, or maybe it was just the way people were in this village. 

“His haircut is … interesting. I bet it’s all the rage in L.A We should try to enthuse people around here with the latest fashion. Do you think he would act as model for Louise? Give her a few tips? 

“Whom?” Slash asked confused. 

“Our hairdresser.”

“Not sure,” Slash said. “Duff doesn’t like scissors. I don’t think we’ll get him into a barber shop.”

They chatted a bit about Slash’s job in the music shop and Jane’s job as a doctor for pretty much everything at the tiny hospital in Lotz Creek, and decided to meet and have a drink after work some time next week. 

“We can just go to a coffee shop.” She added it like an afterthought. “Somewhere that doesn’t sell alcohol.” 

He saw how she bit her lip, as if she had already assumed too much. 

“You noticed, huh? Couldn’t have been just because I was driving?”

“You were both not drinking,” she said. “And … OK. I’m a doctor, Slash. And you are wearing short sleeves today.”

Slash was taken aback. He had forgotten. The scarring from the needles was barely visible, but normally he still took care to wear long sleeves around people. 

“And I’m not judging and not asking, just don’t want to be a source of temptation.” 

“I can handle it,” Slash said. And he could. 

“OK.” There was an awkward silence for a moment, but then she pointed at Jenny. The little girl was sitting next to Duff and Mouse again, telling him something while Duff listened with his typical, slightly confused expression. “Duff is good with Jenny. She is normally a bit shy around adults, but not with him.”

“He’s non-threatening,” Slash said, grateful for the change of topic. In fact, he thought, Duff didn’t have an ounce of aggression in him. “And he probably doesn’t treat her like a child. And, of course, they both like dogs and M&Ms.” 

“Same interests unite,” Jenny replied. “I couldn’t help but spot the guitar inside. I guess that’s yours? Music shop and all?”

“Yeah,” Slash said. “I play a bit. Started rather late, as a teenager, but got hooked.”

“What kind of music?”

That led to a long discussion about bands and likes and dislikes.

“There are some live music clubs in Anchorage,” she said. “We should go some time. Spend a weekend, go and watch a show…”

It was a cool idea, Slash thought. Things like that had been so far away lately, and not only because they were constantly on the run. Going out had seemed so pointless, all on his own, when he couldn’t even drink. But going on a date with somebody, listening to some new bands play, that was something else. It made life suddenly a lot more interesting. 

Eventually the troop left, not without connecting the freezer and announcing a return with stuff to fill it. 

Slash joined Duff and Izzy on the porch steps. Izzy looked exhausted, to put it mildly. He was drinking one of the extra non-alcoholic beers Slash had hidden in the fridge. After a few sips he handed it to Duff, who finished the rest. 

“Harrison will never pay for all the shit they want to get done,” he said. “I really hope they don’t get us evicted.”

“Let them have fun,” Slash said. “Whatever comes out of this, it can only help us in the long run.”

+++

When Slash came to the shop on Monday, there was a letter waiting, addressed to him in his own handwriting, with a stamp he had bought himself and stuffed together with the envelope into another envelope. 

With trembling fingers, he opened it and pulled out a sheet of paper that somebody had carelessly ripped off a notepad. It wasn’t even a full page, just about half of it with torn off edges at the top. 

_Idiot_

he read. And for the rest of the day he ran around with a grin on his face.


	4. Better Homes and Gardens

_Hi Axl_

Slash was chewing on his pen. Business was going slow today and he was alone in the shop. 

_We will get another puppy. Michael has been talking about a puppy for over a year now, and I would love to say that, Jeff just gave in, but that’s not how it happened._

_We were visiting our neighbours, who just happened to have a litter of huskies (or hussies, as Michael prefers to call them) and they had asked us over to have a look at them._

_Buying a purebred husky is a bit outside of our means, and so there was no discussion of getting one at all. But then there was this one puppy, Buddy, who had broken his hock. He’s doing fine, only limping the tiniest bit and even that should be good in another week, but Anna (our neighbour) said she wouldn’t be able to sell him as a working dog anyway. So, if we wanted him, we could have him._

_Michael said he was just like Jeff (who broke his ankle by falling out of a window, and he’s still limping a bit). Of course, Buddy was the one who had already been sleeping on his lap, and, yeah. You get the picture, I suppose._

_So, in a few weeks, when he’s old enough, we’ll get a puppy. Mouse (our other dog) won’t be pleased. She is one menace of a beast and not overly fond of … well anybody who does not belong in her house, be it in human or canine form._

_I know it’s asked a lot, but I hope you’re doing well._

_Slash._

He hadn’t mentioned the letter to Izzy, and neither the reply. Izzy wouldn’t like it, not because he was having a problem with writing to Axl, but because he would have a serious problem with writing to St. John’s, fake names or not. 

Axl was not stupid though, and almost as paranoid as Izzy. He would probably eat the letters after reading them. 

The reply came about a week later. 

_Tell Jeff he’s an idiot, too. And that he deserves a broken ankle. And a limp. And far worse. Bastard._

+++

_Hi Axl,_

_I went to see a show. The band was OK, but not exactly terrific. I think Jane and me were the only two persons actually listening, and so they came over during their break between sets (they were doing two in a row because the second band had cancelled) and asked if we liked it. I told them that I played a bit myself and knew some of the covers they were doing, and so it happened that I played leads on Walk this Way during their second set._

_At least that was the plan. After I had played the song, the audience started to cheer and asked me to do another one, and so I played leads on Smoke on the Water. And then on Paranoid. And if the original lead guitarist hadn’t looked at me like he was going to kill me, I probably would have played some more, but I thought it was better to leave the stage as quickly as possible._

__

__

_Suffice to say, he did not come over for a chat after the gig, but the rest of the band did. And Jane kissed me after I had gotten off the stage. And all of a sudden, I had lots of friends who wanted to buy me a drink. It’s a pity I don’t drink anymore, I could have gotten fully plastered for free._

__

__

_I’m teaching Michael how to play guitar and I’ve got to say: kid’s not half bad. He definitely has the right attitude when it comes to practicing. We should form a band. You don’t happen to be able to sing, do you? I mean, I remember you hitting some spectacular notes, back in the day. I’m sure you’d make an awesome frontman._

_Miss you Axl. Really._

_Slash._

Again, it took about a week until the letter was waiting for him at the shop. 

_Show off. I was forced to sing in the church choir. Hated it. I will never sing another note in all my life. I’d cut out my tongue before I’d do._

_PS. I was fucking brilliant._

+++

When Slash came home that day, the yard was full of stuff. 

“What is all this shit?” he asked when he entered the house. 

Izzy was busy carving up some kind of fish for dinner. They didn’t have fish every day anymore, but still about two out of three. 

“Don’t ask me,” Izzy replied without looking up. “I was informed at work today that there would be a delivery, and when I came home, everything was full of shit! They can call themselves lucky that Mouse didn’t get into a huff about it. Duff was alone at home and, fuck, I really don’t like it.”

“Did somebody scare him?” Slash asked. 

“Don’t think so. Apparently, Anna was here to show them where to put everything. I don’t want her coming over when Duff is alone either.”

Slash trusted Anna, but he had to agree. Leaving Duff alone was not ideal per se, but so far, he had been just that: alone with Mouse. If people now started to come over, that could lead to difficulties. 

“Oh, and that’s not all,” Izzy went on, maltreating the poor fish as if he had to kill it a second time. “I was also informed … not asked … informed, that the whole Better Homes and Gardens team would invade our home tomorrow. And, no, it’s not only Arne and Eric and Lilah. He has roped half the fucking village into helping out. Everybody who is still able to walk without the help of a cane. Oh, and food will be provided, no need to go all fancy on them. They’re turning this into one big happening!” 

He did look up then, with a glare that clearly indicated that this was all Slash’s fault. 

“You still think this is normal?”

No, Slash had to agree. None of this was normal at all. 

“This has to stop!” Izzy roared and Slash almost jumped backwards, when he rammed the knife into the table top. “Whatever this is, it can’t go on.”

“OK.” 

Slash eyed him a little worried, trying to gauge how serious this was. The hand on the vibrating knife hilt was steady, so this wasn’t a panic attack. It was about something else. 

“Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t want tea!” Izzy growled. At least he wasn’t yelling anymore. Izzy didn’t yell often. He was more the menacing type, so when he did, things were dire. “I want people to leave me the fuck alone in my own home!”

Slash went to the door and looked outside where Duff was working on his giant pebble picture. 

“Duff? Can you come in for a moment?” he called out. 

“Leave Duff out of this,” Izzy hissed. 

But Duff was already there, tousled and windswept and just what Slash needed. 

“Izzy’s a bit upset,” he said loudly. “He’d really like some tea.”

“Want me to make some?” Duff asked. He joined Izzy at the table and put his hand onto the one that still hovered over the knife hilt. 

“No!” Izzy spat, although it was in Slash’s direction and not in Duff’s. Snapping at Duff was not part of Izzy’s repertoire. “And you’re playing dirty.”

“I’ll make you some,” Duff said. “Don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Izzy said, his voice softer already. 

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on the couch, a mug of tea in his hands and Duff pressed against his side. Slash congratulated himself on his genius. 

“Listen,” Slash said, wondering how to put it best. “Here’s a suggestion. You’ll gonna take Duff and get out of here for the weekend. I’ll handle this shit.”

“And where am I gonna go?” Izzy asked back. 

“Jenny’s family got a cabin. It’s up … somewhere. Doesn’t matter. Fact is, you need to get out of here.”

“I don’t need to do anything. I need people to stay the fuck away from me.”

“Yes, and I get it. Really, I do. This is … overkill. But we’re not gonna be able to stop it.”

“Oh yes, I will stop it. Just wait and see.”

“Nope.” Slash shook his head. “This is an avalanche. It needs to run its course. Nothing you can do about it. And you and Duff, you need to not be here when this is happening.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. This was indeed overkill. Well meant overkill, but still. Slash had seen Izzy in quite a few stressful situations over the time, but never had he seemed so close to killing somebody. If Izzy was at home when the invasion happened, there would be bloodshed. 

“Look,” he tried again. “Leave it to me. I’ll make it clear to them that there can’t be a repeat. I’ll find a reason that won’t make us look like ungrateful assholes, but in order to do that, you have to trust me. Please.” 

“Nobody tells me what to fucking do!” Izzy said darkly. “I’ve had enough of people deciding what’s good for me to last me a lifetime.”

So that was the problem. Izzy wasn’t afraid anymore of anybody finding out anything they were not supposed to find out. This was about Izzy’s determination to never, under no circumstances, allow anybody to go over his head. 

Slash wasn’t sure if this fiercely defended independence was a general character trait or if it had been exacerbated by his imprisonment. Probably both. Suffice to say, he had learned very fast that just trying to push him into a direction he wasn’t willing to go in was never a good idea. Izzy could be talked to, he could be argued with, and was all in all a pretty reasonable guy, but as soon as somebody tried to force his hand, they would run into a wall of resistance. The well-meaning citizens of Pollock Cove, it seemed, still had to learn that. And they would do that in a very painful way, if Slash didn’t manage to remove Izzy from the scene. 

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Slash quickly tried to smooth things over. “It’s just a suggestion. But I think it’s a good one. ‘cause, sorry Iz, but you’ll blow up like a dynamite factory, and that won’t go over well.”

“I don’t care what’s going to go over well and what not.” His voice was turning softer, from enraged to slightly miffed. Duff’s presence was working its magic. 

“Yeah, but you want to live here. Think of it like this: You’ll take a weekend off. Get some fresh air…”

Izzy snorted. “As if there wasn’t enough of that around here.”

“Some change of scenery then. Exchange nature for more nature. Anyway. Do what you want, enjoy some alone time with Duff, and when you come back, you’ll have a renovated house.”

Izzy glared, but the reasoning was sinking in. 

“Think of Duff,” Slash delivered his final low blow. “Would be a real home.” 

He held his breath, not sure if it was the right thing to say or the one that would burn down the fuse even faster.

“And what do you expect me to do in that cabin?” Izzy asked. “Go fishing?”

“Does it matter?” Slash asked back. “Show Duff some bears, go elk watching. Have sex all weekend long, for all I care.”

“I can do that,” Duff leant his head against Izzy’s shoulder. “Have sex all weekend long.”

“I’m sure you do,” Izzy said dryly. “Question is, would you like to do it? Go someplace else, I mean, not … that?” he added with another dark glare into Slash’s direction.

Duff’s face lit up. Slash was not sure about which prospect exactly. 

“OK,” Izzy relented. “I’ll do it. Once!”

“Yeah.” Slash let his breath go in relief. “I’ll drive over to Jane and get directions and the key.”

“You coming back or spending the night?”

“We’re not that far yet,” he said. Which was not exactly true. They had had sex during their night in Anchorage, but there hadn’t been a repeat. Maybe it had been the thrill of the moment, the exhilaration after actually getting on stage once more and playing; something he hadn’t done since his highschool days. But that had been Anchorage. Now they were back in Pollock Cove and also back to testing the waters. 

+++

On Saturday morning, Slash was up earlier than any sane person should be up and waved good-bye to Duff, Izzy and Mouse. Having the dog out of the way had seemed like a good idea. She was always a bit of a liability, and Slash had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her all day long. 

Pollock Cove’s inhabitants, it turned out, were early birds, too. Fishermen most of them, they were used to early starts and long hours and when he saw the first truck come up the road, just as he had prepared himself a mug of coffee, he braced himself for a hard day. 

Slash would not call himself a natural leader. In fact, he wasn’t a leader at all, be it natural or unnatural. He had been content to leave the leading to Izzy, not taking into account that even Izzy might now and then need a reprieve from leading. This whole shindig might have just been the straw to break the camel’s back, but the breakdown had been in the making for quite some time. Izzy was good at packing up and leaving. It was the staying that caused him to flounder. 

To Slash’s relief, Arne was the first one. He had his kids in tow, and a whole conglomeration of tools on the bed of his truck.

“Hi!” he called out when he jumped out. Then he spotted the mountain of supplies and went over to inspect it. “This looks good,” he announced when he was done. “Seems like everything was delivered.”

In the meanwhile, a second car arrived and Slash recognized Anna, without Jenny this time.

“Izzy still asleep?” Arne asked, just as she arrived. 

“Look…” Slash rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I make you all some coffee or tea or whatever?”

“Guess we’ll have a moment for that,” Eric said. “The others won’t be here until eight. We just came a bit earlier to make sure we can start right away. We’ll be hard pressed to get everything done as it is without wasting time organizing.”

Fifteen minutes later they were all served tea and coffee and sitting around on whatever was available to sit on inside the house. 

“This is a bit difficult,” Slash started. “But Izzy … this is a bit much for him, so I got him out of the way.”

“Huh,” somebody made. 

“We’re all as grateful as can get. Really. Izzy, too. He just can’t deal with so many people at the same time.”

It sounded lame, even to his own ears. But what was he supposed to say? His first idea had been to make this about Duff, but while people would have been more understanding, Izzy wouldn’t like that either. 

Slash wouldn’t blame them if they now all got up and left and told them to take care of their shit on their own.

“So that’s what’s … wrong with him?” Anna asked. 

“Makes sense,” Arne added. “I mean, yes, he’s always so quiet, doesn’t talk much, not even when it’s just the two of us. But I always thought … I thought what the heck should be wrong with him? Couldn’t find anything at all.”

“Wrong with him?” Slash stuttered, trying to wrap his head around what they were trying to say. 

Suddenly all eyes were on him. 

“We know,” Anna said softly. “That’s why we decided to help.”

“Know?” Slash asked weakly. Izzy had been right. They had been found out. His first impulse was to jump into the car, follow Izzy and tell him to never come back. Then it registered that the consequences didn’t fit in with the ‘knowing’. They didn’t react like people who had just found out that their quaint little village harboured a dangerous criminal on the run.

“We didn’t tell,” Eric quickly said. “Just to a few others, to get this baby off the ground.”

“Tell what?” Slash knew there was no sense anymore in playing dumb, but he just couldn’t stop himself. 

“My Mom found out,” Anna said. “When she was lining the cat’s litter box with old newspapers. There was a photo. Of Duff. If anybody knew him. And another photo of Izzy and that he was dangerous. It was the day after the three of you had been to the store. Was the first time Mom had met Duff, but there’s something about him that’s difficult to forget. She said she wouldn’t have recognized Izzy, but Duff… Yeah.“

It was good that he was already sitting down, because Slash felt his knees give way.

Arne snorted. “That was when Mary came running to tell me that I was having a crazy mass murderer or whatever on my trawler, and that Duff had been kidnapped and we had to rescue him. And I thought, this is bullshit. Sorry. As if Duff needed kidnapping to go with Izzy. And Izzy had opportunity enough to murder me if he wanted to. But all he ever did was work and be quiet and then work some more. Bullshit, really.”

“We weren’t sure what to do,” Anna said. “Mom wanted to call the troopers, but then we wondered. Why are you even here? Nobody who is on the run would come to Pollock Cove. From L.A. Made no sense. So then it clicked and we knew.”

“Knew what?” Slash asked, still not sure his voice would carry. 

“Witness protection,” Arne said. “So, they couldn’t get to you for revenge, I suppose. The trial is over after all, but I guess with those crime rings you never get them all. So far I had always thought: veteran maybe. You know, the limp, the tremors. The look he sometimes gets when you startle him. I thought that maybe he needed to be as far away from everything as he could. Not that the two are mutually exclusive.”

He looked as if he waited for confirmation, but as Slash had no idea himself whatever ‘was wrong with Izzy’, he could neither confirm no deny. Arne’s theory was as good as any he had come up with himself. He just knew that the tremor and the limp and the haunted look were all courtesy of St. John’s and had nothing to do with whatever had gone wrong in Izzy’s past. 

“Only I always thought the FBI, or whoever is responsible for this, would give you a bit of help, at least for a start, and not just dump you in the wilderness to let you fend for yourself,” Lilah continued. “Seems a bit unfair, to be honest. You guys are doing a service to the country, you risk your life to get this scum behind bars, and they leave you to starve in a house that can hardly be called that.”

“And with Duff being unable to care for himself,” Anna said, clearly upset now. “Just leaving him here without even providing a decent roof over the head? That’s criminal. If you guys weren’t taking care of him … You have your own issues after all. Not that it’s my business or anything. I just mean, you wouldn’t have been at … that place, right?” 

She looked a bit embarrassed now, but Slash didn’t have it in himself to feel offended. Jane had probably told her that he was a junky anyway. He did have ‘issues’, Izzy had ‘issues’ and he didn’t mind calling it what it was. 

“And after all those … those things these monsters have done to Duff.”

“After…” Slash stuttered. 

“I have dug around a bit,” Lilah said. “At the library. Sorry, I shouldn’t have been snooping, I suppose, but with Izzy working with Dad… I was a bit worried.” She looked apologetic. “I wanted to be sure we had this right. That he was not dangerous to be alone on a boat with. Even if it is some kind of trauma, I mean, we’ve all seen those movies where they get these … flashbacks and … Anyway. I found an article that explained about Duff and how he had been … you know… one of the victims.”

‘One of the whores,’ Hopton’s lawyer had called it. No, these people wouldn’t see a whore when they looked at Duff, just an abused kid. 

“That’s when everything started to make sense,” Anna concluded.” For example, when I visited that first time with Jenny. Izzy was so scared, he was trembling. I didn’t get it then, but now I do. If I had known, I would never have shown up on your doorstep just like that.”

Only now they were sending an army to their doorstep, Slash thought. 

“I just thought, when I came over, I mean, let’s be honest here: we were all treating you a bit shitty. Here you were, our new neighbours, and, sure, you were all a bit reserved, but I thought we should have made more of an effort to get to know you. But I guess now we all know why you are so private.”

Slash buried his face in his hands. 

“It’s OK.” Arne patted his shoulder. “To finish this … because I can see Jim and his boys coming up, we decided, if the government leaves you in the lurch like this, then somebody else needs to step in.”

“Who knows?” Slash asked weakly. 

“Oh, not that many,” Arne said. “Just a few of the guys. To convince them to put in some labour. And their families of course.”

‘And their friends and neighbours and extended relatives,’ Slash finished silently. In fact, the whole fucking village knew. Or thought they knew. Izzy would have a heart attack. Duff would have to put in a whole lot of blowjobs to get him halfway back to normal. 

“Ok, guys, let’s start then.” Arne stood up. “Just stay in and take whatever time you need. I imagine this comes a bit as a shock, huh? We’ll get the guys organized.”

They left him alone and Slash’s head dropped onto the tabletop. Izzy had been right all the time. Nothing of this had been normal. But it hadn’t been sinister either.


	5. Axl

Izzy had decided to not drive up to the cabin right away, but to spend some time along the coast first. Mouse was lying on the backseat, asleep, and Duff, quiet even by his standards, was looking out of the window. Izzy should probably try to draw him out a bit, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy. 

He was behaving ridiculous, and he knew it. He had never been good with well-meaning people. Even as a child he had rebelled when his parents had decided to just sign him up for summer camp, baseball training or similar activities without asking him first. Growing up, this aversion against anybody trying to run his life for him, had intensified, and at St. John’s it had grown from a pet peeve into full blown aversion. 

Sometimes he wondered if that was the reason why he loved Duff so much: Duff might drown him in tea and shower him in sex, but he never told him what to do. If that made him a bad person, he couldn’t help it. 

They stopped at a view point high on a cliff to have lunch, and again, instead of exploring the area as he normally would have, Duff sat next to him and gazed absentmindedly over the ocean.

“You OK?” Izzy asked. 

He put an arm around his shoulder, but for once Duff wouldn’t lean into it. He was restless under the outward calm, his muscles giving off barely perceptible twitches, his skin rippling with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the stiff breeze that came from the sea. Izzy knew the signs. 

“Yes,” came the reply after an eternity. 

“Are you dreaming?” 

Duff looked at him. “I don’t know. Am I?”

Izzy tucked a strand of hair behind Duff’s ear and ran his knuckles over his cheek. 

“You tell me,” he said, but Duff was already looking at the horizon again.

Izzy had seen him like this often enough to know that they would be in for a full-blown hallucination later on. If it hadn’t already started. 

It could be harmless, like those he was having quite often lately, and which Izzy didn’t mind because they always left him in an elated mood. Or it could be something dark. From the little frown that appeared between Duff’s eyes now and then, he expected the latter. 

He would have preferred to drive back, and ride it out in the safety of their own home, but their home was full of people who didn’t belong there. The last thing he needed, was one of Duff’s rougher episodes in front of strangers. For as long as he was perceived as stunted, but harmless, people would give him chocolate and send him on his way. If he left the impression of being unpredictable, things might change very fast. 

The weather was not bad, if windy and cast over, and so they stayed at that place for most of the day. Eventually Duff’s focus returned and they climbed down to the beach, looking for shells and driftwood. Izzy found some sea glass and Duff, delighted by the colour, was determined to look for more. 

In the end they returned to the truck with a plastic bag full of material for Duff’s masterpiece at home. Mouse was wet and tired out after chasing the waves, and when Izzy, out of an impulse, took Duff’s face into his hands and kissed him, he tasted salt and kelp and something else that he could never quite pin down. Duff didn’t reciprocate, just remained passive until Izzy told him to get into the car. 

It was still quite a ride to the cabin, and after a while, Izzy was the only one still awake. They had to drive up into the mountains, but sadly not high enough to leave the spruce forests behind themselves. For the final stretch they rattled over something closer to a hiking path than a road, the trees closing in on them from both sides. The Chevy would never have made it, but the truck was doing OK. 

Eventually they reached a sunny clearing. It was a typical hunting cabin, small, but from what he could see, in far better shape than their own house. Electricity was provided by a diesel generator, and water came via overground piping from a stream higher up.

“Duff.” Izzy shook him lightly.

Duff came awake and looked around in confusion. 

“Where are we?” he asked softly. 

“Weekend outing?” Izzy asked back. “You remember?”

Duff shook his head and Izzy felt dread settle in his stomach. They should have stayed home. He should have gotten rid of the home improvement enthusiasts, and kept Duff where he was feeling safe. Now it was too late to drive back. Even with the eternal twilight, he was just too tired to make the trip right away. He needed at least a couple hours of sleep. They would eat, put their heads down for a bit, and if Duff was then still beside himself, they would get into the car and to hell with anything else. 

“We’ll just stay this one night,” he said. “Come on. We’ll make dinner.”

He wondered if they could sit outside for a bit longer, but as soon as he stood still to search for the key in his pocket, he was attacked by swarms of mosquitoes. Decision made, they went inside and closed the door. The room felt a bit stuffy, but opening a window was not a good idea. There was no fly screen, and they would be eaten alive before morning. 

“Soup?” Izzy asked, when soup was pretty much all they had brought along. 

Thanks to owning a freezer that seemed to be filled with the whole village’s leftovers, cooking was a quick affair. Izzy warmed some soup on the stove and despite Mouse being around, they still had bread left. Duff ate, but every couple of minutes he would let his spoon sink to stare out of the window and into the forest. It wasn’t exactly conducive to Izzy’s latest aversion against trees and after a while he caught himself staring, too. 

This couldn’t go on. Izzy could already feel the first tingling in his hands. It was a bit early to go to bed, but who cared? They wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. Fuck, he had grown complacent. Duff had been doing so well up here and he had deluded himself that from now on it would be all uphill. 

“Think you’ll manage to sleep a bit?” he asked, when Duff eventually just stopped eating and dedicated himself to fulltime staring. 

“Will you come, too?” Duff asked, eyes a bit bigger than they should be. 

Izzy nodded. They left the dishes on the table and checked out the small bedroom. He found sheets in the closet, just as Slash had told him, and made the bed. 

“Come,” he stretched out his hand.

“This isn’t our bed.” Duff looked at the unfamiliar sheets and Izzy could have kicked himself. He should have brought their own blanket at least. 

“It is for tonight,” he replied. 

“OK,” Duff said after a while and reached for Izzy’s hand. 

He rummaged through their bag for sleeping clothes and rolled his eyes when he saw the extra bottle of lube, Slash had sneaked into it. Didn’t look as if they would need it. 

Duff shook his head, when Izzy handed him his shirt. He had stripped already and now climbed into bed naked. 

“OK,” Izzy said, knowing where this was leading. 

Sometimes Duff just needed skin on skin contact, the more skin, the better. Therefore, he decided to forgo any type of sleeping attire himself and just took off his clothes. Duff crawled into his arms, trying to get as much of his body lined up with Izzy’s as was possible. 

“Good like this?” Izzy asked when he had finally found a position, he seemed comfortable with. 

Duff nodded. 

Izzy tipped up his head enough to kiss him and to his relief, Duff responded. It meant that he was a bit more himself, not completely lost in his nightmares yet. He brushed hair aside to look at him, needing to see his face to make sure he was still there. But Duff’s eyes still held a spark of recognition and so Izzy kissed him again. Maybe he would manage to keep him from slipping completely.

Duff’s hands slipped down his body, searching for hold and finding it on his hips, and when Izzy pushed his knee between his legs, he felt him growing hard. Good. That was good. He rolled him onto his back and kissed him again. Duff panted softly while Izzy nipped at his throat, his collarbones and then flicked his tongue against a nipple. 

It elicited a subdued moan and so Izzy moved on to the other nipple, licking first, before he gently took it between his teeth. Duff pushed down on his knee, trying to get some friction, and Izzy let him take what he needed. Then he moved downwards, parted Duff’s legs a bit wider and crouched between them. He blew onto the head of his cock, licked along its length, before he took it into his mouth. 

Izzy was not as adept at sucking dick as Duff, but he did his best. Duff, it seemed, was not disappointed by his performance. He grew bigger and harder on his tongue, and Izzy felt the pulse in his inner thigh quicken under his thumb. He wished Duff would be a bit more vocal in bed, anything to guide him along, but he doubted that Duff would ever do him that favour. 

Then, all of a sudden, there was a soft tuck on his hair and Izzy looked up. 

“Too much?” he asked, just when Duff held out the bottle of lube to him. 

“Want to do me?” Izzy made moves to lie down on his belly, when Duff stopped him. 

“No,” he said, his eyes earnest. 

“I’m… not sure this is a good idea tonight.” 

Duff still held out the bottle, and Izzy took it. Contrary to the gossip Axl had liked to spread, they had never really fucked at St. John’s. Hand jobs, blow jobs, yes. Any more? Far too risky. 

After their escape they had continued to do just that at first, as Izzy had not been sure if Duff even wanted to do more. Fuck, he hadn’t been sure he wanted more himself. His attempts at anal sex had been far and few between and reduced to zero after his marriage. Eventually Duff had taken him through the paces, gently, but also a little insistently, until Izzy had allowed him in. 

The other way round, however, was more complicated. Oh yes, Duff had offered, of course he had, but there had always been a certain tension in his body, one that they hadn’t been able to fully dissolve. 

Izzy never asked if he could be the one to top, always waited for Duff to initiate and then he took pains to get him prepared before he pushed so much as a finger in. Not for one second did he want Duff to confuse what they were doing with what had been done to him. 

Every now and then however, Duff seemed to truly want it, and for reasons Izzy couldn’t even begin to fathom, tonight, at the brink of a horror trip, Duff felt the need to be fucked. 

“Lie back,” he said. “Relax. Let me get you ready first.”

He just returned to what he had been doing, the only difference being that he coated his fingers in lube and massaged first Duff’s balls, then made his way backwards, between his legs and towards his ass. Every now and then he brushed over his hole, dipped in, pulled out and resumed sucking his dick. 

As always, it was a long road. Eventually he had reduced Duff to a puddle of loose muscles and randomly sprawled limbs. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils blown and he was panting softly while Izzy still worked his fingers in and out. Duff was ready. 

Izzy moved up and kissed him for a last time, then looked down into his eyes, asking if he still wanted to go through. Duff smiled and tucked at one of Izzy’s dreadlocks. 

He lifted one of Duff’s legs to get a better angle, and pushed in. He kept a close eye on Duff’s face, watched how his lids fluttered, his forehead wrinkled for a moment, and then smoothed out again. Izzy kissed slightly parted lips and made the first little move. Duff rolled with it, soft and relaxed, except where it mattered. 

Slowly, every move deliberate, Izzy began to fuck him. The drawback of all the foreplay was, that Duff never lasted long. Once he was ready for the taking, he was also ready to come, and as always, he did so with a barely audible gasp. A short contraction of his body, a brief contortion of his face, and Izzy felt semen run over his hand. 

He pulled out after that, jacked himself off with Duff’s semen on his fingers, and stretched out next to him. He had never come inside Duff’s body, not once, but it didn’t matter. When they did it like this, then his own pleasure was secondary. 

“Better?” he asked and brushed a sticky hand over his cheek. 

“Yeah,” Duff whispered. His eyes closed and unlike Izzy, he fell asleep within minutes. 

+++

It was maybe an hour after midnight, when Izzy woke up. Duff was still spooned behind him, arms wrapped around him and holding on for comfort or maybe for dear life. Izzy could never really say. 

Careful not to wake him, he detangled himself and went into the living room. Mouse was lying in a corner. She looked up briefly, but put her head back down, when she realized that there wouldn’t be any food. 

Izzy stepped over to the window and looked out into the forest, checking one tree after the next and, most of all, the free space between them. There was nobody, of course there wasn’t, there never was, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. 

It took all his willpower to turn away and sit down at the table. He buried his face in his hands and called himself a dozen different expressions for fuck up. What was he even doing here? Was this really all he had to offer? A halfway decent fuck in a lonely mountain hut? He had thought he could play it all by ear, but that just wasn’t working out. He was depending on strangers to repair his house and fill it with food and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be grateful for all the charity. There was nothing he had to offer in return. 

Slash was different. He had started making friends, going out with Jane, a quick stop at Anna’s, picking up Jenny for her when she was working and her divorced husband refused to jump in. He had also started to jam with some guys in Lotz Creek and sometimes they all went on an overnight trip to Anchorage to watch a band in a club. 

For Izzy, all that felt like far too much effort. Once upon a time he had liked going out, watching a concert or just going for a couple of drinks while some local talent did their best to rock a tiny stage somewhere. Now? He was dragging along, doing only what was absolutely necessary. Anything beyond that felt too much. 

Hadn’t it been his idea to show the world to Duff? Make him realize that there was so much more than what little he had been allowed to experience? Hah, he failed at making some stupid trip into the mountains. 

Izzy was shaken out of his dark thoughts, when he heard movement in the bedroom. He went over and realized that Duff had woken up, too. He sat upright, body rigid, the blanket pooling around his waist and staring into space. 

“Hey.” Izzy switched on the little lamp on the bedside table. “Can’t sleep?”

Duff didn’t reply. His breathing turned heavier and his pupils were blown wide. 

“Duff!”

Taking both of Duff’s hands into his, Izzy sat down in front of him. 

“Look at me, man.”

He didn’t get a response. 

This was bad. This was worse than bad, but far from the first time Izzy had seen him like this. He was just not used to it anymore. Didn’t mean he had forgotten how to handle these types of episodes. He had done it all the time at St. John’s, with the additional complication of hiding it from the staff. Should be a piece of cake out here, where he could openly do whatever was necessary. 

“Duff,” he said loudly, snapping his fingers. “Look at me. Try.”

Duff’s gaze flickered into his direction, but veered to the side again after only a second. 

“That’s it.” He stroked Duff’s cheek, “I’m here, OK? Right with you. Try again. Come on. No slacking now. Give me something.”

“Izzy?” Duff asked, as if he only now registered that he was there.

“Yep, that’s me.” Izzy wiped hair back, tucked it behind Duff’s ears, to keep it from falling into his eyes. 

“There’s so much blood,” Duff whispered. There was a hiccup at the end of it, as if he was about to cry. ”So much.” 

“There is no blood,” Izzy replied, doing his best to stay calm. “You’re just dreaming.”

“Am I?” Duff asked. 

“Yes.” When he felt Duff’s shoulders relax a little, he pulled him into his arms. 

“So much blood,” he repeated while Izzy cradled his head against his shoulder, brushed through his hair and cooed nonsense into his ear. “So much blood. Axl.”

Izzy sat up straight. 

“Axl?” he asked. 

Duff had never talked about Axl after they had left. Sometimes Izzy had wondered if he had forgotten he existed. Maybe it was his way of dealing with loss, or maybe Axl had never been overly important to him. Having Axl come up in the middle of a hallucination was … unusual. 

“All that blood. It’s everywhere.” He looked at his hands as if they were covered in blood, and then he started to cry. 

“What about Axl?” Izzy asked again. “Duff, come on man, try. Give me a few more details.”

Was this a vision or just a hallucination? Did he have to warn somebody? Was Axl in danger? Or was he about to kill somebody? Fuck, what was this about?

“Duff!” He shook him lightly. 

“Izzy?” Duff wiped at his eyes, and then he looked up. He seemed still confused, but the despair was ebbing off. He was coming down. “Where are we?”

“Weekend outing,” Izzy said. “Remember?”

“No.” Duff looked around as if he had never seen this place in all his life. “We should be home, I think. Can we go?” 

“In the morning,” Izzy replied. 

“We can’t go now?” He seemed a bit more focussed, but still not fully there. 

‘No,’ lay on Izzy’s tongue. He looked out of the window, noticed the trees again, how they seemed to close in on him. Automatically he started checking for somebody who might be hiding between them. 

“What the heck,” he said. He wouldn’t get any sleep anyway. “Come on, let’s clear up and clear out. 

They hadn’t used much and so they were done with tidying up in less than half an hour. As soon as they were in the car, Duff fell asleep once again. The darker hallucinations always left him exhausted, and this time was no exception.

Izzy tried to make up his mind about how serious he had to take it, but didn’t come to a conclusion. And even if, what was he supposed to do? Axl was almost four thousand miles away. 

It was not even five AM when they arrived at the house. Somehow Izzy had forgotten that it had been turned into a giant construction site and stared a bit flabbergasted at the state everything … everything!... was in. 

Duff came awake, looking still a little groggy, but coherent. They balanced over planks and stepped across piles of discarded bricks and timber into the house. It didn’t look much better inside. Wiring and piping lay bare, half of the kitchen floor was gone and when he opened the bathroom door, he quickly closed it again and took care of his business outside. 

When he came back inside, Slash had woken up. 

“Izzy?” he asked and brushed sleep-tousled hair back. “What are you doing here?”

“Duff had an episode,” he said. “Want to go back to bed, Duff?”

Duff, who had still been standing where Izzy had left him, nodded. He would just sleep, Izzy knew, probably for another few hours.

“Tea?” Slash asked and was already putting on the kettle. “We’re out of coffee. You have no idea how much coffee people can drink.”

“This will never be done tomorrow,” Izzy said and had a closer look at the disaster area. 

“Nope.” They sat down on the couch. “Sorry, man, but they already decided they’ll be back. Nothing I could do about it, because, yeah, it’s that or living like this for the next three years.”

“It’s OK.” Izzy sipped tea. “I’m over myself. I’ve been an ass.”

He was too exhausted to still feel bothered by overbearing neighbours. 

“Yes, you were,” Slash replied. “But don’t worry. They’ll let it pass. Because you’re not only an ass, but also a traumatised, war-disabled hero in a witness protection program.”

Izzy squinted. “Are you having hallucinations, too, now? Just tell me, I’m on a roll anyway. I’m sure I can handle two of you at the same time, no problem. Get Axl up here, too, I’ll just open my own loony bin.”

Slash laughed. And then he told him the weirdest story he had ever heard. 

“So we’re …”

“… their communal project. Yep.” 

“And we were the ones who had been locked into a nuthouse.”

“Yeah.” Slash scratched his head. “You’re taking this better than I had though. I had expected you to pack up and leave the moment I told you.”

Izzy shrugged. Yes, he was feeling uneasy. Very uneasy. And if he had anywhere to go, he probably would. But fact was: he hadn’t. He was broke, dead on his feet, worn out and depleted. 

“I guess,” he said carefully, “if they have known for weeks now and nothing has happened … And if they really believe in this witness protection shit …” 

It was a big ‘if’, one their lives shouldn’t be depending on. But then he remembered Duff’s demands to be taken home after his episode and he knew what his answer would be. 

“I can’t take Duff away,” he finally said. “I just … can’t. Where would I even go?”

He dropped his head onto his knees and ran both hands through his hair. He was so fucking tired and he just didn’t know anymore. He hadn’t slept all night, had just driven a hundred wretched miles through forest, and another long day was lying ahead of him. Then there was Duff’s vision – if it was a vision – and the big question what to make out of it. Being upset about crazy neighbours suddenly seemed such a waste of time. He just hoped … against all reason and just because he was too exhausted to do anything else … hoped that it would work out somehow. If not, he would just shoot himself. Those were the only two options he was still able to come up with. 

For a fleeting moment he thought he felt a hand in his hair, but before he could tell Slash off for it, it was already gone. 

“There is something else,” Slash said. 

He stood up and fetched a letter that had been lying between tons of dirty dishes … none of them part of their own stack, of course. 

“This came yesterday.”

The letter looked official and Izzy briefly closed his eyes against the lump in his throat. 

“What’s this?” He reached with trembling fingers for the grey envelope. 

“The Hopton case. They’re going to appeal. And I need to testify again.”

“Shit,” Izzy said. “That’s gonna bring it all up into the media.”

He unfolded the sheet of paper and quickly read through it. 

“Yeah. Can’t say I’m keen on going through all that a second time,” Slash agreed. “Another round of being humiliated and heckled for being a junky and a case for a mental institution.” 

He looked into his own mug, and Izzy felt a pang of pity. It was an experience he himself had been spared. 

“Do you think they will bring in Axl again, too?” Izzy asked. 

Slash looked startled. “I didn’t think about that.” He took a sip, clearly thinking the implications through. “I mean, if I have to go to L.A. anyway, I might try and visit him. Maybe he’ll see me this time.”

‘Blood,’ Izzy thought. ‘So much blood,’ 

He still had no idea whose blood it would be, but suddenly he was sure, that this time, Axl would be willing to see Slash. 

+++

Slash prided himself on being a pretty mellow guy. Usually he got along well with people, but even he had been overwhelmed by what had gone down the day before. 

No matter that Izzy claimed to have gotten over himself, Slash was a bit worried about how he would take the whole shindig that would unfold again on Sunday. There weren’t only those who worked on the house, there had been just as many people providing food, grilling tons of fish, delivering salads and pies and handing out drinks to the workers. It had rather had the appearance of a village fair than a working endeavour. 

He needn’t have.

Maybe Izzy was just too exhausted to protest any further or maybe it was Duff’s episode that had turned his focus away from his personal indignation, but when the first car drove up at an almost equally ungodly hour as the day before, he was at least outwardly back to his usually coolness. Inside … Slash wasn’t taking any bets on what might be going on inside Izzy. If he had hoped that the weekend trip might be recreational, now, that had been a total flop. 

“Izzy!” Arne exclaimed when he got out and Izzy stepped down from the veranda. “You’re back already.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Izzy said. “I should have been here.”

“No need to apologize.” 

Arne hugged him like a long-lost son and to Slash’s surprise, Izzy did not only let it happen, but even hugged a little bit back. Then he went on to Duff and hugged him, too. Duff stood like a salt pillar until Arne released him, enduring the sudden assault, but clearly not happy about it. Unless one knew him very well it wouldn’t be noticeable, but he was still a bit beside himself. 

The rest of the hordes arrived shortly thereafter, a little less enthusiastic than the day before, and everybody picked up where they had stopped. 

Unlike Slash, Izzy was a welcome addition to the work forces. He picked his projects a bit away from everybody else and luckily people got the hint and left him alone. Some of the guys looked surprised when they noticed how he showed Duff how to help him and how Duff completed his tasks with the customary precision.

People usually tended to like Duff, but they also labelled him as ‘cute, but retarded’. There was nothing ‘retarded’ about Duff. It was as Izzy had once said, he just happened to live in a different world than the rest of them. Whenever it was possible to align those two worlds, he functioned without problem and if somebody was good at aligning them for him, it was Izzy. 

Still, Izzy never let him far out of his reach, and Duff was still too shaken to show much interest in anything but sticking to his side. 

“Not adorable at all,” he muttered, when he saw them sit together during lunch break and share whatever food Izzy had dragged over. They were swamped with food, yet here they were eating from the same plate. 

It was another long day, and when everybody had finally cleared off in the evening, they collapsed all three inside on the couch. 

“You kept up great,” Slash said and saluted him with a non-alcoholic leftover beer. “You endured stupid small talk. You didn’t kill anybody for asking questions about Duff. You even kept the evil glares at a minimum. You’re doing me proud here, Iz.”

Izzy showed him the finger, too tired to lift his hand far enough to make it an impressive gesture. 

At least the inside of the house had been finished and … most important of all … bathroom and kitchen were back in working order. They now even owned a real stove instead of just a cooking plate, a few more scratched up pieces of furniture, a whole conglomerate of cups and plates and cutlery, a handwoven rag rug, and about a dozen patchwork blankets, in case winter should descend early on them. 

Nothing was fancy or even fit together, it was simply whatever people hadn’t needed anymore. Slash couldn’t deny it: for a moment it had brought tears to his eyes. 

“When do you have to leave for L.A?” Izzy asked. 

“Two weeks,” Slash replied. 

“Lucky you,” Izzy muttered. “And I get to deal with the construction crew.”

“With a bit of luck, it should be done until then.” 

It wasn’t likely. They had managed far more than Slash had thought possible for a single weekend, but there was almost just as much still unfinished. There wouldn’t be a repeat of the weekend invasion, but several villagers had already announced that, time permitting, they would come over again, and help out for a couple of hours here and there. It would be a constant trickle of people dropping in for several more weeks. 

Izzy hadn’t protested. He had looked tired, beaten even, as if he wasn’t happy to back down, but saw no alternative. It was at the same time relieving and worrying. On the one hand, yes, Slash was glad to see that he was ready to accept help, on the other hand, he didn’t like the air of defeat it left him with.

There was no denying it: the good citizens of Pollock Cove had vanquished Izzy. 

“There’s something else,” Izzy said. He was turning the can in his hand, trying to find the right words. “Duff’s vision… if it was one … incorporated Axl.”

“Axl?” Slash asked surprised, with a quick look at Duff. 

“Yeah. Axl and … I quote … ‘so much blood’.”

Slash fell silent. “You sure it was a vision?” he asked after a while. “Not a hallucination.”

Izzy shrugged. “How should I know? I’m just telling you. Maybe visiting Axl is not the best idea.”

Slash pondered the new information. Izzy didn’t know about the letters and Slash didn’t want to tell him. He wouldn’t like that he had given away their new location. 

“You know, could be anything, right? I mean, even if it was a vision, Duff’s never that precise.”

“No,” Izzy agreed. Duff had fallen asleep on him, head in his lap, legs hanging over the armrest and some giant patchwork comforter spread out over him. “I’m just telling you.”

“Yeah. And even if … I mean… there’s never really something you can do to stop it either. It just … happens.”

“Yeah.” 

They sat for a while longer, drinking beer in mutual silence. Slash decided to not worry about it. He couldn’t even be sure that Axl wanted to see him. His one sentence replies weren’t exactly a sign of rekindling friendship. 

Maybe it would all lead to nothing.


	6. A Positive Outcome

Two weeks later, Slash boarded a plane and flew down to L.A. He was a day early and before he could chicken out, he took the bus to St. John’s. The bus stop was about a hundred yards down the road, but he could already make out the walls, the barbed wire on top, the sprawl of buildings behind them. The whole institution still gave him the creeps, and he felt a lump grow in his stomach just looking at it. 

Being locked in there had been bad enough, but coming back, walking willingly through the gate, was worse. He had been so relieved when Axl had rejected his visits, had jumped at the excuse to not have to come by regularly and show his support to the one of them who hadn’t managed to win his freedom. Yet, here he was again. 

He gave his name at the reception and prepared to wait. If nothing had changed … and he was sure that nothing had changed … Axl should be free at the moment. It left the question if he wanted to see him. 

He was already convinced that this trip was just as futile as the last one had been, when he was suddenly informed, that somebody would come for him. 

Slash’s breath quickened. He couldn’t evens say why. Axl wasn’t some long-lost family member, he was just … his fellow mate in misery, his partner in crime, the man who had stood by his side when nobody else would have done it. He could leave his family behind, after all they had left him behind first, but not Axl. Not if he had the chance to make his life at least a little more bearable. 

He was picked up by an orderly he had never seen before. They exchanged a few words, but that was all. The trip through the corridors felt like he was walking to his execution. He had spent months at this place, and yet this part of the complex was almost unknown to him. Their world had been narrowed down to just a handful of rooms at the furthest wing of the institution. Packed up, locked into storage, forgotten. 

When they reached his old ward, Slash was ready to run. It took him all his willpower to step through the door, and when it closed behind him, he felt an irrational fear that it might never open again. 

He was led to the visitor room near the entrance. Normally visits just took place in the day room or out in the garden, but whenever there was some doubt if a visit would go over well, it was supervised in a small room with very little destroyable interior. 

Axl was already there. He stood up when Slash entered, hands in his pockets, hair pushed back over his shoulders, face even paler and eyes more suspicious than he remembered. 

For a while they just stared at each other. Slash refrained from letting his hair fall into his face to hide his unease. He owed Axl that much, and Axl took full advantage. He scrutinized his features as if he compared him to his roommate from two years ago, as if he wondered if he could still trust him, or if maybe they were now both on different sides.

When there was no reaction at all, Slash wondered if he was found lacking. 

The orderly had stepped back to give them some resemblance of privacy, but he wasn’t willing to leave them alone yet. 

“Hi,” he said, when Axl wouldn’t talk. “It’s been a while.”

“Idiot,” Axl replied. 

He still wouldn’t move and eventually Slash realized, that his ego would never permit him to make the first step. Instead he was silently hoping that he was still important enough for Slash to bruise his own pride and facilitate a reconciliation. 

He could do that, Slash decided. One of the main goals of St. John’s specific brand of therapy sessions was to instil humility, break down any sort of self-importance and leave the victim with enough self-hatred to subject himself willingly to whatever behaviour modification the shrink on duty considered necessary. Asking even more of that from Axl would be cruel. 

Making a decision, Slash walked over to him and hugged him to his chest. 

“I missed you,” he said. “So, fucking much.”

And it was true. Axl’s opinion about the latest events that had gone down at the house on the cliffs would have been helpful, at least. Izzy and Axl may have never exchanged as much as a single friendly word, but they understood each other on a level that Slash could never aspire to. Compared to those two, his stay at St. John’s had been summer camp. They had been subjected to different, more invasive, and a lot harsher treatment, and it had built a connection between them he had always been exempt from. 

It took Axl a moment to recover his bearings, but then he hugged back fiercely, his fingers clawing into Slash’s shirt until he was afraid it would rip. Axl felt even skinnier under his clothes than he remembered. When Slash’s hand moved over his back, the ladder of vertebrae rippled under his fingers, and he could make out every single rib. It worried him a little. 

When they separated again, Axl looked just as embarrassed as Slash felt. 

“Only an idiot would come back here willingly,” Axl said. 

“I agree,” Slash replied. “What does that make me, huh?”

A ghost of a smile tucked at Axl’s lips and was gone in an instant. 

“I’d give you all the news, dickhead, but… yeah… there ain’t any. So, I guess you have to tell me about the wild, crazy life you’re living out in the sticks. Fucked any interesting animals lately?”

Slash took a deep breath. “It’s good to see you man,” he said. “Really.”

“Yeah, you already said that. Don’t get all sappy on me.” Axl lifted his chin defiantly, making clear he wouldn’t tolerate any comments about his own sappy behaviour from two minutes ago. He looked at the orderly. “Can’t we go outside? I won’t kill him, I won’t create any drama, I was a good boy all morning and took all my pills, too.”

The orderly looked a bit uncomfortable, but then nodded. 

“New guy?” Slash whispered, when they followed him down to the door that led into the garden. 

“Yeah,” Axl whispered back. “Still thinks we only need somebody who offers an open ear and a shoulder to cry on. Duff would have wrapped him around his finger in a heartbeat. Without adding a blowjob to the offer. Just by using his big, innocent eyes.”

“Duff is still wrapping people around his fingers,” Slash gave back, and Axl stomped onto his feet. 

“Not here,” he hissed, when Slash gave him a reproachful look. “Outside.”

‘Outside’ was exactly like he remembered, too. He looked over to the vegetable garden, which was a lot greener and lusher at this time of the year. 

“How’s the tomato production going?” he asked. 

Axl chuckled. “Tell Izzy all his grand plans for a ketchup factory came to nothing. Leo was totally bummed when he had to take over again. Got a bit of flack for it, too, ‘cause what do you make out of it, when a crazy chainsaw murderer is better at running your team than your own employees?”

Slash bit his tongue. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about Axl’s version of events, but it would be a lot more difficult to play along. Izzy may still be a brooding menace, but Slash caught quite a few glimpses of what lay behind the façade. The fear he had once evoked seemed not only very far away, but almost ridiculous. 

The oak tree was still there, and the bench beneath it, too, and so they went over and sat down. 

“How’s he doing? Still that dictator streak? And why the fuck did you move with him to Alaska? I mean, one of the two would be bad enough. But Izzy _and_ Alaska. Were you trying to punish yourself?” 

Slash gave him the gist of their attempts at settling anywhere else. 

“We started to worry that the next time we tried to move anywhere, the house would burn down and we’d be responsible for any casualties,” he concluded. “So, Alaska it was. I’m working in that music shop in Lotz River, Izzy is slaving away on a fishing boat from Pollock Creek…”

“Fishing?” Axl exclaimed. “Jesus Christ. And Duff? Still crazy?”

“Doing good,” Slash replied. “Really good. Still weird, sure, but he’s … he’s happy.” 

“Good for him,” Axl said. “Come on, tell me more. Izzy’s still fucking him? Or did he move on, now that he’s got more of a selection?”

So, Slash went on. He was doing his best to keep the story halfway light, talking about the house on the cliffs, the renovation and the misconception of their arrival. Sometimes he managed to make Axl laugh under his breath. 

“So you’re really all … happy? In Alaska?” he said as if he was not sure what was more unlikely, that they might be happy in general or that anybody might be happy in Alaska. 

Slash sobered. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Izzy is pushing his limits sometimes. Or … always. It’s impossible to help him, ‘cause he just won’t accept any type of support. Makes me want to grab him by the shoulders and bang his head against the wall sometimes.”

Axl snorted. “That’s a need I’ve felt all the time, so you have my sympathy.”

“Yeah. Money is tight as fuck, although it’s getting better now that the good people of Pollock Cove have decided to feed us. At least we don’t have to eat fish all the time anymore. And Duff had a vision last week.”

Axl rolled his eyes. “What’s new about that?” 

“It was about you.”

“Me? Should I feel honoured? What was it about? My grand escape from hell?”

“He only said something about blood.” 

“Blood?” Axl rubbed his nose. “Just … blood?”

Slash nodded. “A lot of blood. You’re not … not thinking about doing anything stupid, are you Axl?”

Axl snorted. “What? Like slashing my wrists? I think about that every day, Slash, they’re just making sure I won’t get my hands on any tools to follow up on it.”

“Axl!” Slash admonished. “I’m serious here.”

“No,” Axl said. “Happy now? I’m no more suicidal than I was before.”

Which was neither a denial nor a confirmation, Slash thought, but he knew better than to push. 

There was a bit of silence after that. 

“Izzy thinks, it means you’re going to kill somebody.”

Axl laughed in delight. “Yeah, he’d think that. He keeps forgetting that he’s the one with the chainsaw.”

“He’s not …actually … I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a chainsaw.”

“He just makes you believe that.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just … if he was a crazy mass murderer, he would definitely have killed some people latest last week. Really. I mean, he doesn’t tell me what exactly he did, but I’m sure it didn’t involve … a chainsaw.”

Axl gave him a dubious look. “Don’t lose your guard around him,” he said. 

Once upon a time, Slash would have agreed. But Axl had never seen Izzy the way he was seeing him every day, tired, depressed, and close to breaking point. 

“So what about you?” Axl asked. “You keep talking about Duff and Izzy, but you didn’t say anything about yourself. Except that you sell instruments to talentless kids. What about that girlfriend? Is she hot? Will you marry her? Have children? Start a fishing dynasty?”

“Jane’s not my girlfriend,” Slash automatically said. He didn’t know what they were. “I guess ‘friends’ is the best word to describe it.”

“With benefits?” Axl asked slyly. 

“Sometimes,” Slash admitted. He blushed and Axl laughed. 

“Come on, don’t make me pull everything out of your nose. You know how it goes here, every bit of information from the outside makes your day.”

And so Slash talked about Jane and in extension about Anna and their other friends in Pollock Cove, but he still didn’t say much about himself. What was there to tell? He still didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. 

The band they had seen in Anchorage that one day had sent him a note to the shop, asking if he wanted to join them, but how should that work? He lived too far away, and while Anchorage was definitely more to his liking than Pollock Cove or Lotz Creek, he wasn’t ready yet to leave Izzy and Duff to themselves. 

Maybe when the house was finished and something like routine had returned to their lives. And maybe if Izzy learned how to trust. Anna had already offered to have Duff over when she picked up Jenny from the school bus after work, and while he hadn’t said ‘yes’ yet, Slash was sure that he had started to consider it. 

Yes, Izzy had survived his first attempts at socialization, had even weathered the constant drizzle of volunteers over the last two weeks, but it had also made him extremely irritable and given Duff a whole lot of opportunity for tea cooking and hand rubbing and cock sucking. Even Mouse was showing more social adaption than Izzy did. With all the people coming and going all the time, she had given up on chasing each and every one of them off her property. 

And, yes, he started to get the feeling that Axl had a point. Even when he was supposed to talk about himself, everything always returned to Duff and Izzy. He wasn’t their babysitter, for fuck’s sake. 

“Are they pulling you in for testifying, too?” Slash asked to change the topic. This wasn’t the moment to try and figure himself out. 

“Yep, I’m on next Monday.”

“So we won’t see each other at court.”

Axl shook his head. “Not if they’re done with you on Friday.” 

He didn’t ask if Slash would visit again, but the hesitation in his voice was as loud as any question could be. 

“My flight is on Saturday afternoon,” Slash said. “But I’ll come over again before I leave.”

“If you want to,” Axl replied as if it was no big deal. 

“I do,” Slash said, because he knew Axl needed to hear it. Whether he believed him was yet another question. “I’d come more often, too, but … it’s a hell of a journey.”

“Yeah, guess you’ll have to make do with stupid letters, huh? And looks like our hour is over.”

He pointed towards the orderly from earlier who was coming towards them. Slash stood up and before Axl could say anything, he hugged him again. 

“I wish I could just take you with me,” he said. 

Axl freed himself out of his arms, but his eyes were a bit too bright when he looked up. 

“Yeah, bummer I don’t fit into your pocket. Maybe if you grow your hair out a bit more you can hide me under it.” 

They said their goodbyes and Slash promised again to be back on Saturday. 

He was just about to leave the ward, when Doc Johnson intercepted him. Slash felt his stomach sink. Johnson, his and Axl’s personal shrink from back in the day, was the one person he absolutely felt no need to see. 

“Slash,” he said, as if they were old friends who happened to run into each other. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you.”

Slash followed him into his office and suddenly he was back to feeling like he had to justify himself and his actions. He wasn’t a patient anymore, he reminded himself. He didn’t have to do anything. 

“So, Johnson said when he had sat down behind the desk and motioned towards a chair on the other side. “You’re looking good. Still managing to keep clean?”

Slash was about to say ‘yes’, but then he bit his tongue. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he said coolly. “Not anymore.”

Johnson looked taken aback. 

“I assume you want to talk to me about my visit? To Axl?” Slash tried to impersonate Izzy’s way of cool confidence, which he now knew was faked most of the time, but which was impressive nevertheless. 

“Yes,” Johnson accepted the detour. “I was surprised when he agreed to see you. He usually doesn’t show interest in the world outside of St. John’s. So we take this as a sign of progress.”

Now Slash was the one taken aback. Just because Axl refused contact with his remaining family didn’t mean he had no interest in the world outside. In fact, the world outside had been one of his main topics, when they still had been sharing a room. He had needled Slash for information about books he had read (not that many) and music he had heard (a lot more) or movies he had seen. 

Sometimes he had hummed melodies to him, or drummed rhythms onto tabletops, to give him an idea about what was really out there. He had recaptured complete movies, had racked his brain for memories about anything that might be interesting for Axl. So how did these idiots come to the conclusion that Axl had no interest in the outer world?

“From what we were able to see, the visit has come to a positive outcome.”

Slash shrugged. Axl hadn’t killed him, hadn’t started to scream or to throw stuff around, so, yes, this was probably a positive outcome. 

“If there are no delayed reactions …”

… meaning that Axl wouldn’t start screaming or throwing stuff or trying to kill somebody later in the day …

“… we would like to make this a regular occurrence. Once per month, maybe.”

“I wanted to come back on Saturday,” Slash said. “I’m still in town.”

“Oh.” Johnson rubbed his nose. “I’m not sure … it might be too early.”

Slash didn’t believe in what he was hearing. 

“I’m living too far away to come by once a month,” he said. “I’m here now because of the Hopton trial.”

“Yes, that was a … rather unfortunate episode. I’m not happy that Axl has to do this again. How are you holding up, between?”

Slash reacted with silence. If he angered Johnson enough, he might be petty enough to not allow a second visit. 

“If you left your address, we might get in contact when Axl is ready for another attempt.”

Slash stood up. “You’re really not going to let me come on Saturday? Not even if he doesn’t show any … delayed reaction?”

“Axl was very distraught after your departure. That he is willing to allow a visit at all is a huge developmental progress. So far, we have never experienced that he has forgiven anybody, if he was under the impression that he had been treated unfairly.”

“He will think he’s being treated unfairly, if I don’t come as promised.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. You should have gotten back to me before promising such a thing. This is why we have to be so careful with visits. Friends and family tend to promise things that are not … in the best interest of the patient and it always leads to a sense of disappointment.”

Slash was sure that fumes were coming out of his ears.

“If it was a week or maybe two… that might be debatable, but the day after tomorrow? I’m afraid that will be too soon for him. Now, as I said, if you leave your address…”

Slash turned and left the office. If he stayed for one more minute, then he would be the one with the delayed reaction. He was short of screaming and throwing shit in a way that would make Axl pale in comparison. 

He knew exactly what Johnson was trying to do. They were planning to dangle his visits in front of Axl’s face as an incentive for good behaviour. And Slash couldn’t even give him that much, because he returning more often than maybe once a year was out of the question. This flight had been paid by the jurisdiction of California or he wouldn’t have been able to come at all. 

It was just as it had always been. Every tiny bit of happiness one might manage to carve out of this place was used against them. It was how they had brought Izzy to his knees, allowing him to get close to Duff, only to threaten him with separation afterwards. They hadn’t even wasted a single thought on what that might have done to Duff. He would have just been collateral damage. 

Now they were trying the same shit with Axl, who had absolutely nothing, no friends, no perspective, no future. But heaven forbid he got something nice twice in a row without somebody using it as leverage. 

Once he was out on the street again, Slash did scream, once, loud, liberating. Then he went to the bus stop and rode back to L.A. At his hotel, he asked for paper at the reception and wrote a quick note to Axl, explaining why he wasn’t coming. He only hoped they would at least keep giving the letters to him. Probably. If he behaved. Another thing they could dangle over his head. All in his best interest, of course, because reading letters from his former roommate might upset him too much to allow it too often. 

Fuck, now he was part of the system, if only by offering blackmail material. For a moment he considered a trip to downtown L.A. and look for a dealer. He discarded the thought almost immediately, but for the rest of the day it was there again, the craving to ram a needle into his arm and forget about the shit place this world had turned into. He hadn’t felt this need ever since he had followed Izzy and Duff to Alaska.


	7. So much Blood

Slash's newest experience as witness went just as expected: he was degraded, humiliated, called a junky, suicidal, delusional and was asked by Hopton’s lawyer if he was confident enough about his sobriety that he would agree to a urine test. He was so angry that he did, and, fuck, what did it even matter? He was as clean as clean could get. 

It was afterwards, when he was back at his hotel room, that he found a solution for his problem. He had promised Axl to visit on Saturday. Saturday was out of the question, but he could wait until Monday, when they would bring him in for testifying. He would sit in front of the fucking court building and wait and let him know that he had done all in his power to stick to his promise. 

He called the airline and cashed in his ticket for the refund, not really sure when exactly he would return.

+++ 

Spending the weekend in L.A. turned out to be one of his less stellar ideas. Slash had been convinced that he missed it, but now it turned out, he wasn’t even used to it anymore. Everything was loud and bright. There was never a moment of silence and never one of darkness and while it was exciting to be part of all that again, he realized that his eyes and ears were having a hard time. Suddenly he wished for five minutes of absolute silence under a sky that was devoid of artificial lights. 

Slash took a bus to Hollywood, just to check out what bands would be playing, and suddenly he was smack in the middle of his old stomping grounds. He had been one of those kids who were laughing and swaying along the streets, drunk or high or both after a night out, and the yearning to be part of all that again returned with vengeance. 

Yes, it had been gruelling, the constant struggling to pay for the next fix, the endless circle of withdrawal and falling off the wagon again, but there had also been so much fun. After a hit, the lights had been brighter, the music better, the girls prettier. Life had been just … more. What did he have now? A boring job, and a boring, domestic existence. The highlight of the week was when they would have something besides fish for dinner. Before St. John’s he would have laughed at anybody who might have suggested his life could ever look like that. 

No, it wasn’t the life he wanted, Slash realized once more, but if he didn’t change something soon, it would be the life he would get. He wasn’t Izzy. He wasn’t content with sitting on the veranda steps, drinking tea and watching the clouds move by. He would never be able to just settle and be content with what he had. He would always want more. And suddenly he craved that fix again, to give himself the illusion that maybe he hadn’t totally given up on this ‘more’ yet. He felt for his wallet. He knew exactly where he had to go, even if he wasn’t up to date on the current going rates anymore. 

He ambled through the streets and finally found the courage to enter one of his favourite clubs. The atmosphere was different than he remembered, less vibrant, less colourful. He felt awkward ordering a soft drink at the bar and even more awkward hiding in a corner and watching the fun and laughter around him. He had never been one to just chat up random people, but if he had wanted to get into a conversation, he had managed. How? Fuck, he couldn’t even ask somebody for fire as an ice-breaker, since he didn’t smoke anymore. 

Eventually the band came on, and Slash started to enjoy himself a bit more. They were not spectacular, but good enough, fun to watch, and he cheered and applauded with the rest of the audience. For a moment he remembered that night in Anchorage, where for all of three songs he had been the one being applauded to. 

He still cut the night off earlier than he usually would have. While he walked down the streets, towards his drab hotel room, he thought about Jane and if maybe she was the key to what he wanted from life. But would Jane even be up to it? She had returned to Pollock Cove after finishing medical school, not because she had to, but because she loved her village, loved the people and was happy where she was. 

Yes, they were having fun together, but she would never leave her quaint life behind for something more exciting. And Slash didn’t want a quaint life. He may not be clear about what he really wanted yet, but his future did not in lie in Pollock Cove. It didn’t lie with Duff and Izzy. And it didn’t lie with Jane. 

+++

On Monday morning, bright and early, Slash sat on a bench in front of the courthouse. It wasn’t one of those awe-inspiring buildings that might deliver the background to some breaking news. One of those which were located in busy downtown areas, with sprawling staircases and throngs of reporters hanging about. It was a generic building, situated unobtrusively at a busy multilane road just off the freeway, surrounded by more office complexes and some smaller industrial sites

He had never been one for endless inactivity, and after a while, he started to feel an unrest that drove him almost insane. He reached for his wallet every other minute, making sure it was still there. Izzy had hammered into his skull to pay cash whenever possible, and so, out of an impulse, he had emptied his bank account right after the ticket refund had come through. Now he had more money in his pocket than ever in his life. 

The morning had started cool enough, but eventually the typical Californian summer heat had crept in. He had tied his jacket around his waist already, and now took off the baseball cap to rearrange his hair a bit more backwards. As much as he loved his curls, he had forgotten how warm they could be in the summer. 

Eventually he stood up and started to walk around, worried he might miss the moment when they would finally bring Axl in, but unable to stay where he was either. 

Around noon he decided to go for a quick stroll around the block, just to stretch his legs a bit. There wasn’t anywhere to go and so he just walked around the building and then down the street. 

He stopped when he noticed a giant truck coming up the road. The driver accelerated to reach a green traffic light in time. Slash cursed and made a jump back when he raced past him. He watched how the traffic light turned red and realized, that the truck would never be able to stop in time. A car was coming out of a side road, and somehow Slash saw what would happen, before it actually did. The truck skittered into the intersection, the other driver hit the brakes to no avail, and then the truck crashed right into the little car. 

Brakes screeched, cars honked, somebody screamed, and before Slash was aware that his body had moved, he was already running. Both vehicles had come to a hold, the smaller car crushed and wedged under the grill of the truck. The trucker, too shocked to be doing anything, sat behind the wheel and stared out onto the road. 

Slash reached for the passenger front door, but it wouldn’t give. Then he tried the backseat door and yes, thank God, it still opened. 

There were two persons on the backseat and the driver up front, none of them moving. Slash reached for the first one, tried to get him out of the seatbelt. Just when he managed to find the buckle, he heard a soft groan. Good, they guy what at least alive, and somewhere he had heard that a person who was still making noises was usually savable. 

“Hey, man!” he said, reaching out for the face and turned it into his direction. “Hey man, are you…”

He fell silent. 

Axl.

His long hair was tied back, giving an uninhibited view on the blood smeared face … so much blood … but he opened his eyes and looked at Slash, hazy at first, before he came all of a sudden fully awake. 

“What the fuck…” he sputtered, but Slash was already acting on instinct. 

“Out!” he said. “Come on, we’ve got five minutes.”

“Five…,” Axl said faintly. 

“Out!” Slash yelled, and to his relief, Axl, who had never been able to obey a single order without at least an hour of discussion, followed. 

He did not necessarily walk, more stumbled away from the car, and Slash quickly looked around for cover. 

“Look for the others!” he exclaimed, when a car stopped and the driver got out to help them. “I’ll take this one out of the heat and over to those trees, but there are two more inside. Call an ambulance. I think there’s a phone box down the road.”

The man did as he was told. Slash pulled Axl not only into the shade, but around the first building that would block the view. He spotted the entry to an underground carpark and pulled him in. 

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked and caught Axl’s face in his hands, trying to get a look at his eyes.”

“Slash?” Axl stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Springing you from prison, now stop asking stupid questions and follow along. How many fingers?”

“Twelve!” Axl growled and slapped his hand away. “Fuck.”

Slash just grabbed his face again and tried to find out where the blood was coming from. 

“There’s the gash,” he finally said when he made out the wound half an inch above Axl’s hairline. “OK. No time to deal with this now. Take off your jacket, it’s full of blood.”

He wrestled Axl out of it and used the sleeve to wipe the blood away from his face as good as possible. Then he noticed a little water feature in front of the next office building and ran over to dunk the whole thing in. 

“Slash, what…,” Axl started again, but Slash had no time. 

He cleaned Axl’s face, then ripped part of the lining out for a makeshift bandage, pressed it onto the headwound and put his baseball cap over it. Next, he wrangled him into his own jacket to hide the bloodstains on his shirt, grabbed him around the waist and told him to get a move on. 

“That way,” he said, not knowing why, but being absolutely sure that it was the right direction. 

“Looks like Duff was right,” Axl eventually said. To Slash’s relief, he was getting steadier. “Lots of blood.”

“Shut up, just keep walking,” Slash said and then he spotted it in front of him. A car rental. 

“Wait over there.” He pointed towards a bench next to a tiny green space and Axl, apparently still to confused to question anything, obeyed. 

Thanks to the refunded plane ticket he had enough money for the car and within fifteen minutes, Axl was sitting on the passenger seat and they were taking the shortest way out of L.A. Slash considered swinging by the hotel, but decided against it. All there was left was his bag with a few dirty thrift store clothes, and he could do without. It was already paid for, and as he had left stuff behind instead of stolen something, there would be no reason for the staff to notify the authorities. 

So he just drove on, pointing the car East and hoping he would get out of the city limits before anybody noticed that Axl was gone. 

+++

They drove with barely a break. Slash knew they would have to ditch the car soon and find another ride, but for now he hoped that nobody would make the connection. Hopefully they would search the area around the courthouse for an injured, confused mental patient wandering through town and not for two people and a getaway car. 

He avoided the interstate and instead took the scenic route, past Mount San Antonio and then out into the desert. He stopped briefly at a gas station to stock up on food, and bought a “I Love L.A.” T-Shirt and matching baseball cap to replace Axl’s blood stained top. 

On a deserted parking lot, he checked out the headwound and dressed it properly with the contents of the car’s medical kit. Then he hid the dressing under the new, blood-free cap. It should keep for a while. 

He bought painkillers and disinfectant at a drug store, but knew right away that ibuprofen would not really help against the headache from hell Axl would be dealing with. He only hoped there wasn’t anything more serious he was not noticing, like a broken skull maybe. If Axl’s brain suddenly started to come out of his ears, he would not be equipped to deal with it. But Duff had predicted blood and not brain matter, so hopefully they would be good. 

They made it to Utah in the middle of the night and slept in the car, only to start again before sunrise. Slash made a short detour into Salt Lake City and drove out to the airport. He wiped the interior of the rental as clean as possible, using a complete bottle of rubbing alcohol, hoping to get all traces of Axl out of it. Then he returned it at the local branch store at the airport. This would avoid it being reported as stolen, and, as he had paid in cash, hopefully keep the cops from finding out he had rented it at all. 

Next, he dragged Axl along in search for an unsupervised long-term parking area. When he finally found what he was looking for, Axl was close to collapsing. Slash made sure that nobody was watching, and then he picked the lock of a nondescript family car whose pay and display ticket was still valid for two more weeks. 

“Where did you learn all this?” Axl asked, when he hotwired the vehicle.

“Duff,” Slash said and took off into the general direction of Seattle. “That kid has some seriously mad skills. I had him show me, in case I might ever need it.” 

Axl didn’t ask for clarification. He talked very little, just dozed in the passenger seat and drank some water from time to time. So far Slash had attributed it to the headwound and maybe a concussion, but now he was getting even more jittery than he normally was, scratching at his arms until they started to bleed under his nails while his legs gave off uncontrollable twitches. Belatedly Slash realized that they were running into another problem: Axl may not be a junky, but he had been on a whole conglomerate of neuroleptics for more than ten years, and he had quitted cold turkey. 

“Do you have an idea how heavy withdrawal will be?” Slash asked. 

“You noticed, huh?” he asked. 

“Hard not to. What were you even on?”

Axl shrugged. “Haldol, Thorazine, what do I know? If it exists, I suppose I have taken it at some time. Got changed all the time, too.”

“This will be hard.” 

“I know,” Axl said. “I’ll manage.” 

He would have to. 

Fuck, they couldn’t do this while driving. They needed a place where Axl could come down from all this shit and puke and shiver in peace. And that didn’t even take into account that Axl had been on medication for a reason. At least partly. What if he added a full-blown psychosis to the withdrawal symptoms? 

Valium would be helpful, but he had no idea where to get any. In Seattle he would probably be able to score, but Salt Lake City lay behind them and they were in the middle of nowhere once again. They managed another hundred miles before Axl started to sweat. When they had to make the first emergency stop for an instant vomiting next to the road, Slash decided that they were due for a break. He found a motel that was run down enough to not ask questions and booked a room. 

And then he went in search for a telephone.


	8. A Question of Trust

Izzy was rattling up the driveway far earlier than he usually would. They had been lucky early on and so he was back quite a few hours before his usual time. 

He spotted Duff in the middle of the pebble picture, tall and blond and absolutely gorgeous. He looked up briefly, but strangely enough he didn’t come over to greet him, as he normally would. He hadn’t smiled either. 

Mouse was less reluctant. She came running even before the car was parked, reproachfully sniffing his legs to find out where he had been. Izzy petted her and walked over to where Duff was busy clearing a huge patch in the middle of the artwork. 

“What are you doing?” Izzy asked, a little bit disturbed. 

He had grown fond of the picture, loved that it was one of the first things he would see whenever he returned home. But then he noticed that it wasn’t destruction, more a rearrangement. The clear spot consisted of a perfect circle, surrounded by not only pebbles and shells, but also the sea glass they had collected on that day of their ill-fated outing. It was an ornamental trim of some sort, everything woven around each other in an intricate pattern. 

“You’re going to put something special in there?” he asked. 

Duff looked up again, but returned to his work without answering. Izzy sat down and watched, somehow not comfortable with leaving him to himself. 

It was a beautiful afternoon, late July and perfect summer weather. The wind blew and the sun, high over the ocean, was comfortable on his face. The days were quite a bit shorter already, still long by the standards he was used to, but they got a few hours of complete darkness every night. 

He looked over to the house and wondered if he should put in an hour of work. He felt lazy slacking off. There was yet quite a bit to be done and every couple of days somebody would be over to help out. Allowing himself a free afternoon when it wasn’t even raining made him feel as if he was taking advantage of all the volunteers. By now he was OK with others helping when he couldn’t do something on his own, but he shouldn’t start counting on it. 

Still, his conscience was only mildly peeved and he decided to ignore it completely. 

After a while, Izzy felt his stomach rumble. Usually they would go for a late lunch now, but Duff was too busy and rejected any suggestions of preparing food. 

“You sure you’re OK?” he asked after a while. 

Duff nodded curtly. 

“OK, then.” Izzy settled. Whatever this was, however long it would take, lunch had to wait until it was done. 

Lunch turned into early dinner that day, cold leftovers somebody had brought over after a family party the day before. Izzy and Duff had been invited, but hadn’t attended. 

They got a lot of invitations. So far, he had been invited to several birthdays, two cases of first holy communion (on the same day) and a baby party. Slash was always happy to go, but Izzy had declined every single event, hoping people would finally, finally get the hint. 

They didn’t. Nobody even seemed to be cross with him about it. Instead they would send Slash home with a basket full of food or drop it at the port the next day, and a week later he would be invited to the next family event he wouldn’t attend either. 

Sometimes he wondered if this was some elaborate ruse to wear him down. Or maybe they had a bet running about who would be the first to make him accept. 

They ate on the veranda steps, Duff still solemn, and Izzy wondered what was going on in his head. He felt for the inner restlessness he would exude before a bad episode, but there was nothing. 

“You really sure you are OK?” he asked while he bit into his sandwich. 

Again, Duff nodded, but he remained withdrawn and absent minded.

They were torn out of their togetherness, when a car came up the driveway. 

Mouse jumped up and barked shortly, but before the car was even parked, she was already back next to Duff. Izzy stood up to check, while she tried to wheedle food out of him, or make him give her weird orders, she would perform twenty-five-times in a row to earn a treat. 

Duff didn’t teach her to do sit or lie down or heel, of course, no, it was things like ‘jump into my arms and lick my face’ they practiced faithfully. Today, however, he didn’t seem to be in the mood. He just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

Unlike Mouse, who was slowly opening up to visitors, Izzy wasn’t too happy about the interruption. With Duff in such a weird mood, he would have preferred to spend the evening lazing about instead of helping whoever had come to do some work. 

He squinted against the sun and was surprised when he noticed that it was Jane’s car. 

“Slash’s not back yet,” Izzy said when she got out. She looked worried. “Something wrong?”

“Slash phoned me,” she said and came up to him. “Said he had to talk to you. Urgently.”

Immediately Izzy stood a bit straighter. “Did he say…”

“Nothing. He’ll call back in …” she checked her watch, “… half an hour, so you’d better hurry.”

Izzy nodded, unease already thick in his throat. 

“Just …,” he turned around to Duff. “I have to go to Jane’s. Do you want to come?”

Duff shook his head. 

“You sure? I’d feel better if you came.” Duff was in a weird mood and leaving him alone didn’t make him feel any better. 

“I’d rather not,” Duff said. 

“OK, then… take care, OK. And… stay close to the house, will you?” 

Another nod. Duff didn’t even look up when he climbed into the car and followed Jane to her place. 

Izzy tried to keep his worries at bay. Slash had been due back on Saturday, but he had tried not to be a mother hen when he hadn’t come home. So what if he had added a few days in L.A.? Maybe he had decided to visit his family, maybe he had paid a visit to his favourite dealer and maybe he wouldn’t come back at all. It was not up to Izzy to make a drama about it. 

Their might also have been some delay with the trial, he could have been called in again for another day, for example. This could be anything. Or this could be the disaster he had been waiting for. 

Sitting around at Jane’s house and waiting for the telephone to ring must have been one of the ten most awkward things he had done in his life. She had offered to make tea, and he had accepted just so they would have something to do. Then the phone finally did ring and she left him alone to talk to Slash. 

“Ok,” Izzy said, instead of a greeting. “Shoot.”

And Slash did shoot. Even before he was done, Izzy had to sit down, because this time his hands weren’t the only body parts that were trembling. His knees had joined the club. 

“What do I do, Izzy?” Slash asked, when he had finished. “What if he snaps? I think he’s going into withdrawal real bad, now, and …fuck. I have absolutely no idea what to fucking do!”

‘You should have thought about that before you sprung him,’ Izzy thought, but aloud he said, “I need to think about this. Give me until tonight. Around eight? I need to…,” Fuck he had no idea what he needed to. And they didn’t even have a phone, which meant they would have to drag others into the communication. 

He should have known. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between Duff’s hallucinations and his vision, but this one had been so clearly out of the norm. He should have expected something like this instead of something that wouldn’t touch them because four thousand miles had seemed a safe distant to him. Yeah, shit, now he was woefully unprepared. Again. 

“Jane?” 

She had been waiting in the living room and when she saw him, her expression turned from worried to disturbed. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Yeah.” Izzy rubbed the back of his head. “Look, I need to … make some plans. Slash is gonna call again at eight. Is it OK, if I come then?”

“Of course. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Izzy hesitated. She was a doctor. She might really be able to help. But she was also too much of a stranger to trust her. 

“Not at the moment,” he said. “I … see you at eight.”

He was already halfway back home, when he came to a decision. He turned the car around and drove back towards the village. Arne was in the yard, when he pulled up to the house. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, when Izzy got out and, yeah, when had that turned into the standard greeting formula around here?

“Kind of,” Izzy replied. “I need somebody who can look after Duff.”

“Sure,” Arne said. “I heard Slash got down to L.A. for the appeal. Did they call you in, too? Duff can stay here for a while, no problem. Or maybe with Anna, if he likes that better. She won’t mind either and there are Jenny and the puppies. Whatever works best.”

Izzy wanted to say ‘yes’. It would be the perfect excuse, give him enough time to fly out, solve the Axl problem, and be back. Only with Axl things were a lot more likely to blow out of proportion, explode around their ears and leave them in far more trouble than anybody had been able to anticipate. 

“No,” he said. “I might need somebody to take Duff for good.”

Arne gave him a hard look. “You’d better come in,” he said. 

They sat down at the kitchen table and Izzy tried to calm his hands while Arne made tea. Izzy smiled wryly when the mug which was put in front of him was only half full, so that he could drink without spilling anything. 

“I would offer you something stiffer, but I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Arne sat down across from him

“It’s OK,” Izzy said. “Slash is the addict in the family. I have other reasons to not drink.” He didn’t mention that Duff was the only incentive that kept him from turning into a raging alcoholic. 

Arne gave him time, just nipped his own tea, until Izzy was ready to talk. 

“I lied to you,” he started. 

“We’ve covered that already,” Arne replied. 

“No! I’m still lying to you. We’re not … I mean we are … but there is no witness protection program. I’m really on the run.”

Arne nodded, just waiting for him to continue. 

“You’re not surprised.”

“Do you really think I’m stupid, Izzy?” The old fisherman shook his head in mild disappointment. “Of course, there is no witness protection program. They wouldn’t first try to hide you and then plaster your faces over the newspapers with a ludicrous story about escape and kidnapping. So, I assume the escape and kidnapping is the truth behind it all.” 

Izzy was flabbergasted. He searched for a reply, but couldn’t come up with the slightest idea of what it might be. 

“Witness protection, that was something Lilah and Eric made up to calm down the worrywarts. And also, to keep you from packing up and running. Which you would have done and which would have been a shame. Was easy enough. People here only read the Lotz Chronicle and that hardly covers anything outside the borough, leave alone outside Alaska. I had Lilah dig through the New York Times archive at the library in Anchorage to get the full story together.”

“Then why didn’t you call the fucking cops?”

“Are you really asking me that?” Arne watched him calmly. “I don’t know what has happened to you, Izzy. You may be down on your luck, but you’re not a danger to humanity. And Duff? If there is one place that kid belongs, then it’s with you.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“You don’t work with somebody on a boat the way we do without getting to know them. So, will you spill the beans now or do I have to pull them one by one out of your nose with a pair of tweezers?”

And so Izzy told him. Everything. Not only about St. John’s, but also how he had ended there. It was as if a floodgate had opened. 

For the first time in all of his life he was able to really talk, and that was saying a lot when one had gone through as many therapy sessions as he had. Arne just listened, drank tea, refilled both their cups, and listened some more. 

When he was done, Izzy noticed to his surprise, that his hands were steady again. 

“So, I wasn’t even right about the veteran theory?” Arne asked. 

“Nope. Nothing that heroic. Just jumped out of a window.”

“With Duff?” 

Izzy nodded. 

“Damn. I really thought I had that one right.”

“So, you see,” Izzy started, doing his best not to ramble. “When this blows all up into our faces, they won’t let me see Duff ever again. And he can’t go back to that place. Or any other place like that. You didn’t know him then, he was so … so… bad off. Not like now. Not at all. And he’s really not that much trouble. Yes, he hallucinates sometimes, but all you have to do is sit with him and wait it out. He doesn’t get aggressive, never, just a bit confused, and …”

“Izzy!” Arne had reached across the table and grabbed his arm. “Stop this. He’s not a dog you need to rehome. We’ll take care of Duff while you’re away. And of that crazy dog of yours, too. And when you’re done sorting this mess out, you’ll be back to take care of them yourself. Stop worrying about that. So, next step. What do you need?”

Izzy took a deep breath. “Money. For the flight. The only thing we have that’s of any worth is Slash’s guitar. But it would cover the flight, so I can pay you back eventually. Or if I don’t come back, it’s in the living room. I’d just prefer to not waste time on trying to sell it first, so…”

“Covered,” Arne said. “Next step.”

“Really?” Izzy was startled. “You can’t just give me so much money.”

“I can. Don’t worry, you’ll work it off. As I said, next step.”

“That’s pretty much all,” Izzy said. 

Arne shook his head. “No, it isn’t. You said Slash was sitting with this … what was his name?”

“Axl.”

“Axl. Why do you all have these weird names? Anyway, they’re sitting in some motel room and he’s about to have or have not a psychotic episode because he’s coming down from a lifetime of antipsychotics.” 

“Yes.”

“How dangerous is this guy?”

Izzy hesitated. It was difficult to say. 

“I don’t think he’s dangerous per se,” he finally said. “I’ve known him long enough for that. He’s more … annoying. Really annoying. You can’t even start to fathom how annoying unless you know him. But he was part of the gang back then, and I left him hang out to dry once already. I can’t do it again. But going cold turkey sucks. I did it myself. And whatever they forced down my throat is nothing compared to what Axl got. So, even a sane person might get psychotic while doing that. And Axl isn’t sane.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get him back onto those drugs for the moment, get him up here first, and then do it properly? Or not do it at all, if he’s really not sane? I mean, some people should be on drugs, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” Izzy said. “Only I don’t think Axl will go along. And even if by some miracle he was OK with it, I have no idea where I might get stuff like that. And what I would need. Valium would be nice, I suppose. I might be able to get some in Seattle …”

“How about we get Jane on board?”

Izzy fell silent. “She knows, too, right?”

Arne nodded solemnly. “At the beginning it was really just Lilah, Eric and me. But then it kind of … trickled through. To Anna first. Made her even more upset than she already was before. She’s taken a serious liking to Duff. I suppose because he’s drawing Jenny out a bit. I’ve known that girl since she was born, and I’ve never seen her as lively as when she’s talking his ear off. Yeah, and then it went around. I guess by now everybody knows, even if not everybody is saying it out aloud.” 

Izzy ran both hands through his hair, seriously considering pulling out some of his dreads. All these weeks he had been toying with their lives. He should never have allowed himself this complacency. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Izzy. Really not. We’re not big on authorities here. Administrations don’t care about places like Pollock Cove. The oil industry is polluting the waters along the coast and the fishing fleets are empty fishing our grounds. Does anybody care about what that means to places like ours? No. Which is why we’re used to doing things our way. If we don’t take care of each other, nobody will. So, Jane?”

“I’ll be back at her place around eight anyway.” Izzy turned the mug around in his hands. He didn’t have much of a choice. He could literally feel the gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. 

“Come on,” Arne stood up. 

“What…”

“We’ll get Duff, we’ll talk to Jane and we’ll set up a plan. One that doesn’t involve you roaming through the seedier parts of Seattle in search for a drug dealer. Really, you have to stop doing everything on your own. It’s a bit much for one person, Izzy.”

Less than an hour later they were back at Jane’s. Duff hadn’t been happy to be picked up, he had still been busy with adding ornaments around the empty circle but Izzy had no idea how long it would take them to come up with a solution. 

So now they were in her kitchen, drinking more tea, while Jane listened with growing worry to Izzy’s plan. 

“This is not a good idea,” she finally said. “How long has been on neuroleptics?”

“More than ten years.”

“Which ones?”

“I have no idea.”

“Ok.” She brushed hair out of her face, clearly exhausted already by what little they had spread out in front of her. “When Slash calls, ask. We need to know.”

“Axl won’t know either.”

She gave him a slightly unnerved look. “If he has taken them for that long he will know.”

“Jane,” Izzy said, trying to not lose his patience. “He won’t know. I didn’t know either. And believe me, I asked. All I ever got was ‘something to calm you down’ or some such bullshit.”

“But that’s …” She wasn’t getting it, and Izzy was not in the mood to explain it to her. “How do they want to ensure compliance if they don’t explain to you what you’re supposed to take and why?”

Izzy laughed. “They have their ways, don’t worry.”

Jane looked shellshocked, but caught herself fast enough. 

“All right. I would have preferred to get your friend back on what he has been on before, but sounds like we have to play it by ear. We’ll try the one that has the fewest side effects. Jesus Christ, this will cost me my license. Just switching one for another is not a good idea, but it’s probably still less risky than letting him slide into unbridled withdrawal and risk a psychotic episode. Because chances are really high that he will experience one.”

“Jane,” Izzy said tiredly. “He won’t take it. And I won’t force him.”

“This is madness, Izzy,” she exclaimed, clearly exasperated now. “Do you have an idea what can go wrong? He should be in a hospital. And whatever he has been on should be reduced slowly. Over the course of at least a year. This is a clear ‘don’t try this at home’ situation.”

Izzy closed his eyes. “I know you mean well and I guess you’re absolutely right. But Axl won’t trust you.”

“What’s got this to do with trust? It’s not like he doesn’t know the effects. He’ll be aware that it’s in his best interest. Nobody wants to go through withdrawal like that, believe me.” 

Izzy gave her a hard look, slowly starting to feel exasperated himself. 

“I suppose in your world you prescribe this stuff … dunno … because you truly want to help patients,” he snapped. 

He wasn’t sure how anybody might profit from having their brain switched off like that, but what did he know?

“Where we are coming from, that was secondary. We got drugs to be quiet, to not interrupt the daily routine, to be easier to handle and often enough as punishment. I don’t know if Slash ever talked about it, but in case he did, let me tell you, he hasn’t experienced half of what they were capable of. He had a family who cared about him, and they knew he would soon be out and be able to tell. Axl and me? We were long term inmates without an outer support network. They could do to us whatever they wanted without anybody being any the wiser. And, believe me, they did.”

“No,” she said. “No, that’s … nobody would stand for that.”

“OK.” Izzy sat up straight. “Look at Duff.” 

He pointed over to where Duff was lying with Mouse on the carpet. As soon as the talking had gotten a little more heated, he had checked out and now he was cuddled up with the dog, rubbing her ears with one hand while she licked his other. 

“What type of drug would you give him? Haldol? Clozapine? Thorazine? Which dosing? For how long?”

Now she looked confused. “Duff?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “’cause he got all that shit and more. Until he could barely talk. They went a bit easier on him later on, but when I first met him, he was walking around like a zombie. Fuck, Jane, I have no time to explain this. We were all drugged up to the gills, and nobody can tell me that was necessary. I’d rather die than take any of this shit ever again. Axl will be the same. So, we can drop that line of thinking. It’s leading nowhere. Give me a rundown of side effects I can expect and how to handle them best. That’s all I’m asking for.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to argue, but then she stood up, crammed around in a drawer and came back with a sheet of paper and a pen.

“Fill that in,” she said. 

Izzy looked at it. “Patient Questionnaire?” 

“I may work at the hospital, but as there’s no doctor around, I’ll do house calls in Pollock Cove. From now on, you’re my patient. Under ‘experienced symptoms’ you write sleep disturbance, panic attacks, continuing anxiety. I’ll prescribe diazepam. Will be a bit late, when you get to your friend, but at least you’ll have it, in case it’s still needed. And I get to keep my license. Hopefully.”

Izzy snorted, but he started to complete the form with his fake identity. 

“Keep them away from Slash,” he added. “Count them. As stressed out as he is, he might be tempted.”

When the phone rang at eight pm sharp, Jane handed the receiver directly to Izzy. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked. 

“OK. Axl’s puking his guts out,” Slash replied. 

“Yeah…,” Izzy hesitated. “OK, I’m putting you on speaker. Jane’s here and Arne.” He pressed the button. “Now listen. You can’t stay at the motel.”

“Izzy, we can’t get anywhere right now. He’s sicker than a dog.”

“Doesn’t matter. Get him into the car and give him a bucket. You know Axl’s voice’s got some pretty raw power behind it. If he starts screaming, you’ll have the cops at your door faster than you can think. Find somewhere remote. Really remote. Holiday home, something like that. Shouldn’t be so difficult where you are.”

“OK,” Slash said. “I’ll try.”

“No, you won’t try,” Izzy corrected. “You’ll do it. Get some supplies. Food for a week. Stuff that’s easy to stomach. If he can eat at all. Electrolytes are important. Glucose. Fluids. Don’t care if he doesn’t eat, but get him to drink.” He hesitated again. “And find something to tie him to the bed, if you have to.” 

“I can’t do that,” Slash exclaimed. “Not after… after….”

“Yes, you can. Don’t worry, he’s used to it.”

“I know that!” Slash protested. “That’s the reason why I can’t do it.”

“Fuck, Slash!” Izzy exploded. “I’m sure you remember the one or other Axl episode. You’re in for one of them. A big one. Stop kidding yourself that it’s gonna be harmless. I’m not saying to spring anything on him. Explain it beforehand, that you might have to do it. Now, when he’s still lucid enough to get it. Make clear that, if he wants your help, he’ll have to play by your rules.”

“And what if he says ‘no’?” Slash asked sheepishly. 

“Then you tell him that he’s on his own. And you pack your stuff and leave right away. ‘cause if you let Axl fuck this up, we will all feel the backlash. You’ll go to jail, they’ll trace you back to us here. Everybody will suffer. So put your foot down now, before Axl gets the idea that he can run the show.”

“I’m not sure I can manage,” Slash replied. “I mean, fuck, Izzy, maybe you can make him plant tomatoes, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Yes, you can,” Izzy replied. “He needs you, not the other way round. Axl’s not stupid, he knows that. Keep it together for … fuck, three days, I suppose. Maybe four. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning, so should be there in … ugh.” He had no idea how long the journey would even be. Since they had move to Pollock Cove he measured distances in ‘far’ and ‘really far’. 

“You’re coming?” Slash audibly perked up. “You’re coming here?”

“Yeah,” Izzy growled. “Can’t leave you idiots to deal with it on your own, can I? So, do me the favour and keep it together somehow. Can you do that?”

“Yeah!” Slash replied, almost elated now. “I’ll manage. I will.” 

“Good.” Izzy let his breath go in relief. “Jane is our contact person. Call her as soon as you have an address for me. I’ll get it from her.” 

He put the receiver back into its cradle and looked up. 

“What?” he asked when he noticed that everybody was staring at him. 

“I had no idea that you had it in you to order people around like that,” Arne said. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, I prefer not to,” Izzy muttered, not in the mood to joke. The most difficult part lay still ahead of him. He had to explain to Duff that he was leaving.


	9. Duff

It was dark when they returned home. Duff was still quiet and Izzy wondered how much of the discussion he had understood. He was never sure about that. Duff didn’t care for lengthy conversations, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t catch up on this or that when people talked. 

“Tired?” Izzy asked, when they got out of the car. 

Mouse ran off, probably to chase some critters off her property before bed.

“No.” Duff stood next to the car, looking up towards the moon that had risen over the bay. 

“Come on, let’s go in.” 

Izzy stretched out his hand, bracing himself for the talk he would have to deliver. Duff took it, but wouldn’t move. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Izzy reached up and cupped Duff’s cheek. “Talk to me.” 

Instead of an answer, Duff pulled him over to the pebble picture. 

“Careful, we’ll trample it,” Izzy said, when he felt the first stones under his shoes, but Duff just pulled him forward until they were standing inside the empty circle. 

“What now?” 

Duff was clearly not in a talkative mood, but that didn’t mean he lacked determination. There was something weighing on his mind and Izzy knew, if he just let him do what he needed to do, he would figure it out eventually. 

Duff sat down, tucking at Izzy’s hand until he followed suit. 

“Star gazing?” he asked, when Duff pushed him down onto his back. The earth was damp below him, but he didn’t care. It was warm enough yet. 

He looked up into the night sky, the countless stars up there. Without any light pollution around them it appeared three dimensional and he automatically started to look for the constellations. He wished he could show them to Duff, but knew that Duff would see his own zodiac. 

Duff lay next to him, his breath warm on his neck. Maybe they should sleep out here, he thought. A hand was pushed under his flannel shirt, rubbing soft circles over his belly. 

“Duff?” he asked, but Duff was already slipping buttons out of button holes. 

He moved, and now he was on top of Izzy, straddling his thighs, bowing over him and pressing kisses to every inch of skin he revealed, down from his belly up towards his collarbones. 

“Duff,” Izzy repeated, a bit breathless already. 

His shirt was pushed off his shoulders, his arms got tangled in the fabric for a moment, and then it was gone. Duff kissed him, holding his head still with both hands. He didn’t leave him room for yes nor no this time, not like he usually did, just forced his tongue in and took what he needed. 

Izzy leant up, trying to meet him halfway and finding himself completely rolled over. Duff took him by his shoulders and pushed him back down into the short grass. He surrendered. What else could he do? If Duff wanted him, then Duff would have him. It had always been that way. 

“How…” _do you want me_ , he had meant to ask, when Duff allowed him a moment to breathe, but the tongue was back inside his mouth before there was time to finish the sentence, and left him no other choice than to kiss back with as much heat as he received. 

“Ok,” Izzy whispered, afterwards. “Whatever you need, baby.”

Duff’s hands where on his fly now, opening the zipper and pulling his jeans down together with his underwear, shoes, even socks, leaving him bare to the cool breeze that always came from the sea. Izzy shivered, but made no moves to protect himself. He lay just as he had been left to lie while Duff got rid of his own clothes with equal impatience. 

When he was back, Izzy reached up for his face, but Duff just took his hands and pinned them down above his head. He leant onto his wrists for a moment, pushing them into the ground below them, a clear reminder of what was expected of him. 

“OK,” Izzy breathed. 

He didn’t move after that, even tried to keep the squirming to a minimum when Duff’s mouth was on his neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks. They had never done it this way, their lovemaking had always been gentle. But if Duff needed something else tonight, then Izzy would give it to him. Or rather, let him take it because right now he was in no position to give anything at all. 

Teeth scraped over his skin, then bit sharply into his nipple and effectively put an end to his determination to not squirm. He gasped and arched into Duff’s chest. His arms came up out of their own volition, trying to hug him, only to be caught again and pressed back into position. 

“I’m trying,” Izzy laughed softly, but Duff was not in the mood for jokes. This wasn’t a request, this was a demand and Izzy realized, that he had to try harder. 

He did better this time, was better prepared when teeth raked over his other nipple, when blunt fingernails ran down his sides, when Duff nipped and licked and sometimes even bit his way down to his dick. He seized Izzy’s hips and pushed them firmly into the damp earth before he went down on his cock, swallowing it with one practiced move. 

It took all the willpower Izzy could muster, but this time he managed to keep his hands in place above his head. He groaned and whimpered while Duff’s tongue teased and caressed, and, yes, maybe he did squirm, but he did not move out of position. 

Duff pushed his legs apart, opening him up wider, until he found enough leverage to force spittle slick fingers up his ass. It burned a bit, Izzy was used to gentler treatment, but he didn’t care. This felt good, right, perfect. He wouldn’t complain about anything, not even if Duff decided to ride him raw tonight. Who cared if he carried leftover pains around for the next few days? Maybe that was Duff’s intention behind all this, to make sure he remembered who he was supposed to come back to. 

He did not ask, because he wouldn’t get a reply anyway. He looked up into the sky, the stars blinking back at him, while Duff was going down onto him and inside him as if it was the last time, he would ever do this. 

Fear kindled somewhere deep inside him, that maybe Duff knew something, just like he always knew. That maybe this would be their last night on earth. It almost made him move his hands again, but Duff didn’t want him to, and so he didn’t. 

Maybe he should at least try to ask, but he was too much of a coward.

It was too dark to see much, the moon just a slim crescent that provided hardly any light. All he could make out was the mop of blond hair over his belly. Izzy whined in despair when Duff suddenly let go of his cock, pulled his fingers out of him and crawled up to meet him once more. They kissed, just as passionate as before. Duff buried slick fingers in his hair, ran them over his scalp, his whole body rubbing against Izzy’s, their hard cocks moving against each other. 

And then, before Izzy could voice his protest, Duff moved backwards and impaled himself with one hard shove on Izzy’s dick. 

“Fuck, baby, no,” Izzy brought out while Duff groaned, head pressed against his shoulder, rocking forward and backwards between his gasps. 

This time he didn’t manage to keep his hands where he had been told. He wrapped his arms around Duff, cradled him against his chest, stroked his head, ran his finger along his spine, while Duff slammed down on him so hard, that Izzy almost came there and then. 

“Slow down, baby,” he gasped, when he was sure that Duff had to be hurting himself, but it was to no avail. Duff was determined to destroy both of them. 

The temperature was dropping rapidly, he could feel it wherever Duff’s body wasn’t covering his own. Izzy didn’t know what to do, how to keep up with what was happening. He just lay there, spread out like an offering, sweat cooling on his overheated skin.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he felt Duff’s lips where his neck met his shoulders, kissing, licking, and then he suddenly bit down hard. 

Izzy screamed and came and while he collapsed, Duff, who never made any sounds during sex, roared his pleasure and his anguish into the night 

Izzy gathered him into his arms, held him while sobs racked his entire body, held him and petted him until he calmed down. They lay like that, cold and shivering, until the sun rose again over the horizon.


	10. Memories

The flight out to Seattle caused Izzy to scratch at his limits. He was sweating and trembling and hiding behind sunglasses and a magazine. His neighbour asked him if he suffered from fear of flying and he just nodded. Fear of people would have been more accurate. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been so close to so many strangers. 

He had decided against switching planes and instead picked up a rental car at the airport to drive the final stretch. It was simply safer. It still took him until he was way past the city limits, until he finally calmed down. He stopped once more to call Jane and was given an address somewhere in Idaho. So Slash had taken his advice and put Axl into a car with a bucket between his knees. It would have been one hell of a drive. 

It took him two days to reach his destination and the only reason he was this fast was because he drove the whole distance with only short naps in the car and lots of caffeine tablets in his stomach.

When he reached the cabin, a tiny holiday cottage, miles away from anything else, he was at the same time jittery from all the caffeine and dead on his feet. Slash greeted him before he had even managed to get out of the car, and they hugged as if they had been separated for at least a lifetime. 

“How’s Axl doing?” Izzy asked softly, trying to catch a glimpse through the open door. 

“A little better. No psychotic outbreaks yet. Just lots of puking and twitching and cursing. And one episode of extreme screaming, but I think he would have been able to keep that one in if we had still been at the motel. Anyway, most of the time he’s been too sick to do anything at all.”

“Good.” Not that he wished this kind of sickness on anybody, but Axl would be a lot easier to handle if he didn’t have the energy to concentrate on the more obnoxious parts of his personality. 

When they entered, Axl was sitting upright, propped against the headboard. He looked like death warmed over, pale until he was almost green around the nose, his hair an unwashed mess, and some type of crude bandage wrapped around his head. He was skinnier than Izzy remembered, almost malnourished and the scratching along his naked arms was deep and looked partly infected. 

“Didn’t think we’d meet again, huh?” Izzy said. “How are you feeling?”

“Worse, now that you’re here,” Axl replied. “You stole my keys, asshole.”

“I did.” Izzy pulled a chair towards the bedside and sat down. “Let’s not get into this.”

Axl was about to reply something, but Izzy just held up one finger. 

“Don’t Axl. I’m not in the mood for any kind of shit from you. This is a rescue expedition, not a heart-to-heart between best buddies. You do as you’re told, and things will turn out. You give me any shit, you’ll soon think you better hadn’t. Understood?”

He didn’t get an agreement, of course, but at least Axl kept his mouth shut. 

“So, here’s how we’re gonna do it,” Izzy said. “As soon as you’re stable enough, we’ll drive up to Seattle. We’ll drop the car you two have stolen somewhere out of the way. Probably have to set in on fire to get rid of the fingerprints. I’d rather not give the cops any idea about our direction, so if we’re lucky, they don’t connect it to Slash. Bit of a stretch, sadly. Where did you lose the last one?”

“Returned it,” Slash said. “If they don’t start looking for me specifically, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Somebody saw you at the site of the accident?”

“There were people, yes.”

“Then they will start looking. Let’s hope nobody delivered a decent description of you.” 

For once all that hair might come in handy. Nobody ever got a good look at Slash’s face. On the other hand, it was a striking feature. How many people with too much hair did Axl know?

“Just in case, have your story ready about what you were doing in Salt Lake City and why you left the car there, how you travelled on, etc. Make something up about wanting to see this beautiful country of ours.”

“OK,” Slash said. “Does that mean we have to leave Pollock Cove?”

Izzy sucked in his lips. He hadn’t thought that far, but it was a possibility. “I hope not. It’s still a good place for lying low. You have every right in the world to live up there, you just have to convince the state troopers that you haven’t seen any of us since you left St. John’s. But doesn’t matter now, first we have to manage to get back. Even if we’ll decide to relocate, I have to pick up Duff.”

“Where’s he staying? Anna?”

“Arne,” Izzy said. “Anna takes him when he’s out at sea, but, yeah. If I leave him with Anna, he’ll come home with not one puppy, but a dozen.” 

Buddy would be almost old enough to take home, when Izzy returned. If he returned. 

“Yeah, so, next step. We’ll take the ferry to Whittier. Doesn’t touch Canada, so we should get Axl onboard even without papers.”

“That takes days,” Slash said. “Won’t the risk be too high? That somebody recognizes Axl? I know we managed before, but there was quite a bit of time between your actual escape and the journey. Axl’s face is still freshly over the news.”

Izzy shrugged. “It’s a risk we’ve got to take, if we want to get him up.”

“I’m not going to Alaska,” Axl suddenly said. “I don’t know why you assume that I’m just following after you. I won’t.”

Izzy gave him a short look. “Fine,” he said. “In that case, I guess we can just pack and leave you to it.”

He didn’t get up though. 

“Then what do you want to do?” Slash asked. “I mean, we’re just offering. If you have a better plan… I mean, sure, you don’t have to come with us. Nobody’s forcing you.”

He looked a bit miffed, Izzy thought, even disappointed. But Slash had always gotten along well with Axl. Maybe he had really been looking forward to getting him back to the fold. 

Axl kept silent. No, he didn’t have a better plan. How should he have come up with one? Izzy took a deep breath. Maybe it was time for a bit of all that socially adept behaviour Slash tried to teach him. Not that he had been a diligent student.

“Listen, Axl,” he said carefully. “I get that the last thing you want is having people make decisions for you again. And if you really don’t want to come, fine with me. You’re getting us into a lot of trouble anyway, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to that. But you were also part of the team, which is why I’m ready to help you. If you want my help. I know you’re still angry that I didn’t’ take you along, but back then, it was just impossible.”

Axl huffed. 

“I’m not apologizing because there is nothing to apologize for. I’m telling you how it is. That doesn’t change a few facts. You have no connections. You have nowhere to go. And you haven’t been outside closed institutions since you were fourteen years old. You have never lived on your own, you never had to deal with life the way an adult has to. And nobody bothered to teach you because they all assumed you wouldn’t need it anyway.”

“I’m not…” Axl started, but Izzy stilled him with a raised hand. 

“You can add that the world has changed over the last twelve years, so it isn’t even the same one you knew before you were committed. Finding your way would be difficult enough if you weren’t on the run. But you are. So, whether you let us help you or not, is all up to you. I won’t take that decision from you. However, it is the only decision you’re going to make because if you decide to rely on us, then you will do as you’re told. If not, just say so now because then we can all go home. Don’t fuck around. We can’t afford that.”

Axl opened his mouth to answer, but then he all but threw himself over the corner of the bed and puked into the bucket next to it. Izzy caught him by his shoulders and managed to pull his hair back in time. 

“I guess that’s settled then,” he said when Axl came up for air again.

They passed the next days being mainly bored. Axl was sick and miserable, but not beyond what had to be expected. He didn’t have the strength to fight and while he was whiny as hell, he allowed Slash to pamper him. Izzy was happy to leave it to him. Withdrawal was not exactly exciting, just a lot of puke and sweat and other smelly excretions and if Slash discovered his motherly instincts, kudos to him. 

Once Izzy drove out to stock up on supplies and find the next payphone. He called Arne, mainly to get an update on Duff and hopefully talk to him. It turned out that Duff wasn’t able to make any sense out of bodiless voices coming out of a phone receiver. It was a bummer, he had to admit, but if he was honest, not a surprise. 

Izzy had been there for three days, when things suddenly changed. It was in the middle of the night, and as usual, he was not able to sleep in a house between lots of trees. He sat in the armchair next to the living room window, sipping chamomile tea and staring out into the darkness. 

He turned around when he heard steps and wasn’t surprised when Axl came out of the room he shared with Slash. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. “Want another one?” 

He reached for the bottle of Valium in his pocket. Sometimes he was tempted to take one himself, just to be able to sleep through a single night, but he knew just as well, that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Axl didn’t reply. He came over and knelt down at Izzy’s feet. 

“Axl?” Izzy switched on the little reading light next to him. 

There was something distracted in his movements and his eyes didn’t seem to fully focus. It was not so different from the expression Duff wore when he was slipping into an episode. 

‘Here we go,’ Izzy thought. 

“Axl,” he repeated softly. “Look at me.”

It didn’t cause the desired reaction. Instead, Axl laid his hands onto Izzy’s knees. Fingers clawed into the fabric of his jeans until he felt the nails dig into his skin. 

“Axl?” He put two fingers under Axl’s chin and lifted it to see his face. 

“I can still do it,” Axl said. “You don’t have to … have to…,” he petered out. 

“I won’t,” Izzy said, not asking what this was about. 

He brushed a hand through Axl’s hair, hoping it would calm him down, but somehow it had the opposite effect. He shuddered under Izzy’s touch, then became stiff, but made no moves to pull away. His fingers dug even harsher into his thighs, until Izzy was sure they would leave bruises. 

If this was Duff, he would just hold him, give him as much physical contact as he needed to ride it out, but with Axl things were obviously lying differently. Izzy pulled back, keeping his hands to himself. 

“OK,” Axl said. “Thank you. I … I’ll do my best.” 

He swallowed heavily, before he reached for Izzy’s fly. 

“Hey, hey,” Izzy caught his hands. “What are you doing there, huh?”

“I can do it!” Axl was getting agitated now. “Please. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Axl!” Izzy took his face into both hands. “Look at me. Now!”

He obeyed, but his eyes were just as unseeing as Duff’s in the middle of a hallucination. 

“Shit!” Izzy stood up and pulled Axl with him. “Come on. You’re going back to bed. We’ll wake Slash and he can wipe your brow or whatever shit he’s doing.”

“No!” Axl grabbed Izzy’s arm. “No, please. I promise I’ll do better. Please, don’t get Amy.”

“Who the fuck is Amy?” Izzy asked, but then he remembered. Hadn’t Axl’s sister been called Amy?

“I can do better than Amy,” he whispered. “Please.”

And then realization crashed down on Izzy like a piano onto an unsuspecting pedestrian in a cartoon. 

“Axl,” he said carefully, making a few steps backwards. “It’s me, Izzy. I’m not your father, OK? Nobody is gonna hurt Amy. Or you, for that matter. You’re just going back to bed. To sleep. Nothing else.”

He wondered if forcing Valium down his throat would truly put him to sleep or only exacerbate everything. The worst, Izzy knew from experience, were those moments when the drug took effect, when he had already lost control over his body, but still had fought to keep it. And this was no intravenous shot, Axl would slowly drift off, while his mind wasn’t even able to process what was happening. 

“You can’t touch her,” Axl’s voice rose in proportion with his agitation. 

Apparently, they had gotten loud enough to wake up Slash, who was now coming out of the bedroom, looking drowsy and half dead on his feet. No miracle, sleeping with Axl was not conducive to a restful night.

“Go back to bed, Amy!” Axl said. “And push something against the fucking door.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Who’s Amy?”

“Psychotic episode,” Izzy said. “And here I had thought we might be lucky enough to avoid that shit.” 

He didn’t add his other suspicion, that, if shit was truly hitting the fan, they were back to that one fateful night when William Bailey, beaten and abused teenager, had snapped and killed his parents in their sleep. Apparently because Daddy dearest had decided to go after the little sister when his son had … what… grown too big for his tastes? Had turned into too much of a handful to handle? 

“Axl.” Slash came over to where they were standing in the middle of the living room. 

“I said go to your room!” Axl snapped at him. 

“Good idea,” Izzy said. “How about, you both go to the bedroom, huh? You and … Amy.”

He grimaced at Slash to make sure he knew to play along. 

“And I’ll go … out and get some cigarettes. I won’t even be in the house.” 

He couldn’t leave Slash alone with Axl, of course, but maybe, if he just went out the door, he would calm down a bit. 

“Cigarettes?” Axl expression turned suspicious. Wrong thing to say. Fuck. 

“Or … how about we are out of milk?” Maybe Axl’s stepfather hadn’t smoked. 

“Are you kidding me?” Axl asked. “I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t stand for that. I … I…,”

His breath was coming more and more ragged now, he shook his head, as if to clear his mind somehow. The former resolution slipped away to something far more confused and Izzy watched in growing horror how Axl completely lost control of himself. 

The first scream didn’t take him by surprise, he had seen it coming, but the aggression that followed, did. So far, he had only ever seen Axl throw shit around, he hadn’t witnessed him attacking another person. When Axl barrelled into him, he wasn’t prepared and just landed flat on his ass. Luckily Slash reacted fast. He didn’t manage to pull Axl off him, but gave Izzy enough of a lever to grab him, roll him over and pin him down. 

It took both of them to get him under control. Axl may be one skinny fucker, but he fought like a maniac. For once Izzy thanked all the hard work he was doing on the trawler. He was in much better shape than he had been at St John’s. 

“Get something,” he yelled while kneeling on Axl’s back, trying to get a better hold on his flailing arms. “We need to tie him up somehow.”

He hoped Slash had followed his instructions to obtain some kind of restraints and breathed a sigh of relief when he returned with a handful of scarfs. 

Axl screamed and thrashed, but they managed to tie his hands on his back and his feet together and then they just held him and waited until the worst was over. 

It took an eternity. When Axl finally gave up, his screams turning into sobs, they were both drenched in sweat. Slash looked like Izzy felt, as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown himself. Fuck, they needed more pills. For all of them. 

“We’ll get him to bed,” Izzy said and without removing the ties, they lifted Axl up and dragged him to the bedroom. 

Axl was still crying. His whole body shook with the violence of his sobs. Slash settled next to him, stroking his hair, his shoulders, and trying to calm him down. It was completely useless. Eventually he just lay down behind him and wrapped his arm around Axl’s tied up body. It was a picture of misery if Izzy had ever seen one. 

Eventually they managed to get some pills into him, and Axl succumbed to what was likely a middle-sized Valium overdose. 

“Think it’s safe to …,” Slash motioned at the restraints. 

Probably not, Izzy thought, but he also knew the panic that had assaulted him each time he had come out of a drug sleep while being unable to move. 

“Yeah, get them off,” he said. They would just have to make sure they wouldn’t let their guard down and were quick in case it happened again. 

They decided to sleep in shifts. Izzy volunteered to go first; he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He switched places with Slash in the morning and had just closed his eyes for a bit, when he was woken by the next screaming attack. They wrestled Axl down again, sat through another hour of screaming and sobbing until he finally turned completely passive. 

At first that was a relief, but when after hours, Axl still wouldn’t show any reactions, they started to worry. Slash tried to coax him into looking, moving, drinking, eating, nothing. Axl just lay there, eyes open and dead. 

“What do we do if he stays like that?” Slash asked when evening came and there was still no sign of improvement. 

Izzy didn’t like to think about it, but if nothing changed within the next one or two days, they would have to think about unpleasant actions. 

“Should we call Jane?” Slash asked. 

“If it makes you feel better.” Izzy wished for a cigarette. Or a hit out of the Valium bottle. “She will tell you that this is all irresponsible and that we need to get Axl to the next hospital. And she’s probably right.”

“So that’s what we’ll do?” Slash asked. He rubbed his arms nervously. 

Izzy sighed. “I’ve promised Axl to take care of him for as long as he does as I say. So far he has stuck to his end of the deal.”

“And?” 

“What would he want? You spent more time talking about his precious feelings than me, so what decision would he make? Would he play it safe or take his chances?”

Slash chewed his lower lip. “Take his chances,” he finally said. “I don’t think he would commit suicide or something, or just decide to die, but for as long as there’s a chance for him to pull through… Yes, he would take his chances.”

“OK,” Izzy said. “Then we’ll sit this out.”

He wished he could drive to the phone once more and ask how Duff was doing, just because he knew it would calm him down to hear his voice in the background, but leaving Axl alone with Slash was not a good idea. And so they waited, took shifts sleeping or preparing meals, did their best to get at least enough fluids into Axl without drowning him in the process, and worried about how long they would be able to keep this going. 

In the end it took three days until Axl finally spoke. 

“Fuck!” was the first word coming out of his mouth, while he tried to sit up and failed spectacularly. 

“Good to know you’re back,” Izzy said while Slash stabilized him in what might be considered an upright position. 

“Fuck, I’m thirsty.”

He drank about half a gallon of water and puked it back out right away. 

“Slowly,” Izzy said. “Try again. Small sips and not so much. And tea would be better.”

“Drink your fucking chamomile tea yourself,” Axl groused. 

Izzy only shrugged and sat back in his chair. If Axl was so fond of puking, who was he to keep him from it? Slash, however, provided whatever refreshment Axl was willing to try and in the end, he indeed managed to get some chamomile tea into him. Axl rolled up once more and pulled the blanket over his head. 

Two more days came and went. Axl would only move to use the bathroom, but he did eat, he did drink and he wasn’t sick anymore. Slash spent most of the day by his side, and Izzy had no idea how he could stand it. 

“We’ve got to plan the next step,” he said when Slash came out to help him with dinner one evening. “We can’t stay here forever. In fact, we’ve already been here for longer than I would like. Axl is stable, he can weather a car trip.”

And a ferry passage, he added silently. That was another kettle of fish. The idea of having Axl on an enclosed vessel, among lots and lots of people, stuck in a tiny cabin for days, did not inspire him to do a happy dance. 

“You really think?” Slash asked. “I mean, he’s still out of it, somehow.”

“But he’s calm,” Izzy retorted. “He’s not too unwell anymore, he moves normally, the twitching is gone. He looks a bit sick, but not like a junky. And his mood may suck, but it seems stable. He can just as well sleep in a cabin on the ferry. Might even be better than having him up and restless. The trip will take five days and he’ll have to stay inside the whole time. And the fucking ferry leaves only on Saturdays. If we miss this one, that’s yet another week.”

“I know,” Slash replied. “We did it before, remember? And we managed.”

“Yeah, but that was with Duff and, unlike Axl, Duff is a good kid.”

Izzy didn’t mention that he himself had been ready to kick in the walls during their trip up. Five days in a can, without any natural light or the space to make more than two steps without turning around, had felt a bit too close to the basement at St. John’s. Slash had never experienced that special pleasure. Axl, on the other hand, might react in a similar way to further confinement as Izzy had, and Axl had far less self-control. Therefore, he wanted to make the trip when they had still enough Valium left to put him to sleep, should it be needed. 

“You really think?” Slash said. 

“Yeah,” Izzy replied. “It’s time to get him ready for travel.”

That, it turned out, was easier said than done. Axl refused to move. Slash asked, begged, coaxed, it made no difference. 

“Let me,” Izzy said when Slash came out of the bedroom for what must have been the fifteenth time. 

The room smelled, because whatever personal hygiene Axl had felt up to over the last days, had apparently been far from sufficient. Izzy pulled the curtain back and opened the window, eliciting some annoyed noises from the blanket pile 

“Sit up,” Izzy ordered. “We’ve got to talk.”

Axl didn’t move. Izzy pulled the blanket away, and Axl did sit up, even if he did so with a yell of protest.

“It’s time for one of our nice little chats again,” Izzy said. “We’re leaving. Question is, are you coming with us or are you staying here?”

Axl glared and Izzy sat down on the corner of the bed. 

“You’re remembering, right?” he asked, his voice a bit softer. “The day your parents died?”

“The day I killed them,” Axl spat. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Izzy noticed traces of blood on his long sleeves, seeping through from the scratches. They needed to wrap that up, he reminded himself. 

“Yeah,” he replied, not sure how to handle it. It was probably a good sign that Axl could admit it at all. “I guess all the drugs helped repress the memory,” he said, although he had no idea if it was true. 

Maybe it was rather the sudden withdrawal that had shaken up his complete brain, and subsequently unlocked parts of his subconsciousness. Fuck, what did he know about how brain chemistry worked? He had taken that shit, not studied its effects.

“I killed my parents,” Axl repeated. “What kind of monster does something like that?” 

“From what I’ve heard, it was not completely unjustified,” Izzy replied. After what he had witnessed a few days ago he would even say: absolutely justified. 

“I mean, she was ten. Amy. And she was so small. I don’t think she would have been able to …not like me.” he faltered. 

‘And how old have you been when it all started?’ Izzy thought. He felt no remorse for Axl’s parents, neither his stepfather, nor his mother, who had turned a blind eye on it all. 

Axl would probably need to talk about this one day, but not now. Now their focus had to be on survival and nothing else. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Izzy said, knowing it wouldn’t be any comfort. 

Axl was still dealing with his recovered memories in general. Coming to terms with any of it was nothing he could achieve within the next days, weeks, maybe even years. 

Out of instinct, he pulled Axl into his arms and to his surprise, he collapsed completely against him. It took him a moment to realize that Axl was crying. Not sure what to do except riding it out, he sat and held him, stroking his hair, his neck, his shoulders, and suffered through getting completely drenched in tears.


	11. Homecoming

The next morning, long before the sun would crawl up behind the mountains, they had packed up the car and were ready to leave. Axl was dressed in Izzy’s spare clothes. His arms were wrapped up under the flannel shirt and the headwound had healed enough to not require any conspicuous bandages anymore. As bruising was still visible below the hairline, Izzy had wrapped one of the shawls like a bandana around Axl’s head and put the baseball cap on top of it. It looked a bit weird, but was better than looking like somebody had beaten him up. 

They made a short stop at the next town and, as Arne would be out already, Izzy called Anna for news. 

“The troopers were here,” she said, directly after the greeting. “They asked after Slash.”

“Duff?” Izzy asked, fear already rising. Fuck, he really had to get his nerves under control. 

“All good. Arne kept him inside for as long as they were snooping around. We told them that Slash was living alone in that house and that he was out, but we didn’t know where. Because he was such a recluse and didn’t interact with the village folks all that much.”

“Good,” Izzy said. “Means they will be back.”

“As helpful citizens, we suggested to inform Slash upon his return, that the law urgently needed his help. Might be good if he contacted them himself to keep them from coming back.”

“You sure nobody told them something differently?”

“Absolutely. We had a village meeting after you left.” 

“You…”

“To make sure we were all on the same page and told the same stuff.”

“The whole village?” Izzy exclaimed, convinced that his voice was bordering on hysterical. “Does that now mean …”

“That was the only way,” Anna replied, not at all fazed by his agitation. “Nobody was against the plan. Nobody, Izzy. There wasn’t even a discussion. You’re one of ours now. Don’t underestimate that.”

“You guys are awesome,” he brought out feebly. 

“Yeah, we are,” Anna replied. “Good of you to finally notice. So how does your … project move forward?”

“Think we’re done here. We should be back in a week.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How’s Duff doing?” he asked. 

“Missing you,” Anna said. “And teaching my dogs unhelpful things like jumping up at visitors and licking their faces.”

Izzy laughed. “Sorry for that.”

“He’s doing, OK,” Anna said. “Arne took him out on the trawler once, but that didn’t go too well. Said he had to release the whole catch because Duff got upset. As they were already out, they went whale watching instead. He liked that, I think. Jenny showed him how to use sidewalk chalk. My whole yard is covered in whales. That kid’s got some serious artistic talent.”

“I know,” Izzy said, feeling a lump in his throat as he remembered their night in the middle of the pebble artwork. He was missing Duff like crazy. “Say ‘hi’ from me. To Arne,” he added, because Duff wouldn’t see anything helpful in receiving regards from people who were not there. “And … all the others. And thanks. I can’t even… Thanks, Anna. See you in a week.”

He hung up before he could get any sappier, and returned to the car. 

“And?” Slash asked. 

“Later,” Izzy said with a look to the backseat. 

Axl didn’t seem to be overly interested in his surroundings, but Izzy still thought it prudent to keep him a in the dark about Pollock Cove. They were a bit overwhelming up there, and right now Axl was overwhelmed enough. 

They bought gasoline and set the stolen car afire on a deserted parking space. Then they hightailed it out of that place and made for Bellingham to catch the ferry. 

As they could take turns driving now, they prevented any longer stops. Whoever wasn’t driving, slept on the backseat. Axl remained subdued, but his interest in the passing scenery slowly revived. For half of his life, all he had known had been the interior of mental institutions. No matter how disturbed he was, there was so much new to him that it at least took his mind off his misery for a while. 

The ferry ride remained uneventful. Axl still was just a shell of the lively, annoying, spirited lunatic he could be, and while Izzy was glad he wasn’t giving them any problems, he had to admit to his own surprised self, that he missed the cocky son of a bitch who had made a habit out of going on his nerves. 

Slash seemed a bit at a loss at how to deal with him, too. He had led him through the throng of people and to their cabin as if he was dealing with an invalid. Whatever they did, whatever they asked from him, Axl complied, until Izzy seriously started to worry. It hadn’t been his intention to permanently break him. 

When they had made the trip with Duff, Izzy had spent almost the entire time with him inside. Slash had called him an idiot, but Izzy hadn’t cared. If he subjected Duff to five days in a box, then he would suffer through the same. Duff was too unique. If they had let him interact with the same group of people for several days, somebody would have remembered him in the end. 

Axl’s situation was similar. In addition to being a freshly escaped psychotic killer, he tended to draw attention. It had been obvious already during their few potty breaks. Axl entered a room, and heads turned into his direction. Allowing him outside was not an option. 

Izzy himself, however, could roam the ferry with less danger. He wasn’t the type people noticed. Glances seemed to slip right off him and towards, Slash or Duff or now Axl, who were all far more striking than he could ever be. He liked it that way. 

He preferred to not do it too often, but during the nights, he sometimes went on deck for some fresh air. He looked over the ocean, towards the sparkling lights along the shore and realized to his surprise, that the roll of the waves was comforting to his overheated nerves. All that time spent on a trawler seemed to leave its mark. 

It was after such a late-night stroll, that he returned to the stifling interior of the tiny cabin, and found Axl upright. Or almost upright. Slash had an arm wrapped around his shoulders and Axl was leaning into him. They had been talking, but stopped when he entered. 

“Feeling better?” he asked and sat down on the other cot. 

“Yeah, I …” Talking still seemed to be difficult, but his expression was more alert, his eyes not quite as dull as they had been. “I guess so.”

“That’s good.” 

“Slash said,” he started, then looked at Slash who gave an apologetic shrug, “he said I was wrong about … about you and the … the …”

“The chainsaw,” Slash finished. 

Izzy snorted. “Yeah, kind of.” 

“I … “ Axl faltered again, just as he had during pretty much every sentence that contained more than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ ever since he had woken out of his stupor. “I think I’m not fully clear yet about everything that has happened. There are some holes in my memory, I think. Or rather, there are different versions of the same event. I can remember them all, one next to the other, and they all feel true. I can’t say which is the right one. And it drives me nuts.”

Izzy nodded. It was something he had experienced himself. 

“I guess it’s a result of all the drugs,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but sometimes they would give me hallucinogens shortly before I was subjected to … certain ways of therapy.”

“You mean this freaking intense shit, where you were hearing colours and saw how the walls started bleeding and they tried to make you talk about your childhood?”

“Something like that,” Izzy said. 

They hadn’t tried to make him talk about his childhood, just forced him to revisit the day he had killed a man again and again and then, for good measure, once again. The goal had been to make him realize that his version about the course of events was not correct. 

“Anyway, sometimes I would remember things afterwards that I knew hadn’t happen that way. Like they were planting memories into my brain. Sorting that out was always a fucking nuisance.”

In Axl’s case he had probably done at least a few of the plantings himself, but that was secondary. The result was the same and the issues that arose from it, too. The feeling of no longer knowing what was and wasn’t true, had been scary. If he couldn’t trust his own memory, then in what could he trust at all?

“Why would they do that?” Slash asked. “That makes no sense.”

“Because…,” Izzy sighed. 

It was a topic he didn’t like to talk about and one he definitely wouldn’t talk about to Slash and Axl. Duff knew, and now Arne, but Izzy wasn’t even sure Duff had understood the implications. He had just listened and kissed him and taken him to bed afterwards because it had left Izzy upset, not Duff.

“Because they had their own idea of what had really happened. And they were all set on making me admit to myself that I was deluded.”

Slash gave him a look as if he wanted to ask him, if he was sure that his version was the real one. And, who knew? He was rather convinced that he had the facts right, but Axl had been convinced, too. Deconstruction of their sense of self had been a definite goal of their therapy, the idea that they had to be torn down to be built up again. 

“How did you do it?” Axl asked. “Sort it out?”

Izzy shrugged. “Sometimes I couldn’t. Then I just decided that I would stick with the one that had been there first.”

“I don’t know which was the first one,” Axl said. “For example, there is one, where I do it myself, and then there is one, where somebody is coming into the house and doing it while I’m watching. And then there is one where I just come into their bedroom and it’s already over and I only see all the blood. And then there’s one, where nothing happened at all. But I did it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “Yeah, you did.”

Axl nodded.

“Did they do a lot of … that?” Slash asked. “I mean, that’s like brainwashing.”

Izzy shrugged again. “Probably made for some interesting publications. They knew they had us for life or at least for a very long time, and there wasn’t anybody really keeping an eye on what was happening. Nobody complaining if things were a bit dodgy. It’s different when you have family checking in on you.”

He picked at his jeans. “You’ll sort it out, Axl. Eventually. Or you’ll learn to live with it. But I’m not kidding you, I guess you will need a long time. I know that where we’re taking you is not exactly grand central station of excitement…”

Slash snorted at that.

“…but it might be the right place to do just that. Regroup with yourself.”

“I wouldn’t know where else to go anyway,” Axl said softly. His voice was less brittle, but still too vulnerable for Izzy’s liking. Doc Johnson would have celebrated his personal genius, if he had ever gotten Axl this malleable, but to Izzy it was just painful. 

“It’s as good a place as any,” Izzy said. “And when you eventually want to leave, then that’s what you’ll do. It’s up to you, Axl. That’s the good thing about it.”

It would be difficult enough. Never before had it been up to Axl to make decisions like that. Fourteen years old. He had been handed from the authority of his abusive parents to the authority of the various institutions he had lived in. He had never in his life decided where he wanted to live, what he wanted to do with his life, fuck, he probably hadn’t had any say in what he wanted to eat for dinner. He would have to learn independence first and knowing Axl that would probably happen with a lot of blood and bruises from running head first into concrete walls. 

+++

They reached Whittier in the evening and travelled up to Anchorage to retrieve the truck from the airport. As sleep was the one thing, they had all had in abundance over the last five days, they just decided to drive through the night. 

Izzy had to admit, that he breathed a lot easier once they were out in the open country again. Not even the countless trees were enough to make him restless. He drove on, while Slash snored in the passenger seat and Axl was curled up in the back. As the year had moved forward, the little stretch of darkness around midnight was growing. A first taste of what they would get once winter settled over them. He was less pessimistic now than he had been before. They would manage, somehow. 

It was early morning when they reached Pollock Cove. Izzy had called Arne from Anchorage to let them know about what time to expect them. 

When they drove up to the house on the cliffs, Slash behind the wheel, he spotted not only Arne’s car, but also Anna’s and Jane’s. 

“Reception Committee,” he muttered into Slash’s direction. 

“Had to be expected, huh?” 

“Kind of.” Izzy sighed as if it bothered him immensely, but if he was honest, he was kind of touched. 

The artwork next to the driveway had grown during their absence, which surprised him at first, because Duff shouldn’t have been home to do it. He looked automatically at the circle in its centre and noticed that he had started to fill it out with some kind of picture. He couldn’t fully discern yet what it would be, but hoped it would remain G-rated.

Then he realized, that the house wasn’t a construction site anymore. All the rubble and building material had been cleared out of the yard. It didn’t look exactly pretty now, heck, it would always be a ramshackle hovel, but it was at least welcoming and felt maybe a little bit like coming home. 

Before they could stop, their welcoming committee was already coming out of the house. Duff, however, was nowhere to be seen. 

He exited the car and then, before he even had a chance to close the door, Mouse came careening around the corner and jumped right into his arms. 

“Stupid dog,” he said tenderly, and fended her off. 

She just moved on to Slash, before she gave Axl a less friendly once over. He stood stiff as a stick, while she sniffed at him and declared him unimportant. 

‘Where’s Duff?’ Izzy wanted to ask, while Arne, Anna and Jane came down from the veranda to greet them.

But then he spotted him, coming around the same corner, Mouse had taken earlier. 

“Did Duff grow?” he heard Axl ask behind him. 

“Yeah,” Slash replied. “I guess we all kinda did.”

Izzy left them all standing where they stood. He knew where Axl’s astonishment had come from. Duff wasn’t the same person he had known those two years ago. He walked towards them, tall and straight and confident and when Izzy met him halfway, Duff took his face into both hands and kissed him with all he had. Izzy’s first impulse was to fend him off, they had witnesses after all, but then he thought, to hell with it. So what if they gave away another secret he had been trying to hide. He was fed up with conforming to what people expected from him. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s neck and kissed back with just as much passion and feeling and desperation as he was receiving.


	12. Epilogue

Izzy sat on the veranda steps, a mug of tea in his hands, and Duff between his knees. The late August sun was warm on his face, the wind cool on his skin and a little bit of after sex glow tingled pleasantly within his muscles. 

The first few weeks after their return he had spent together with Duff at Arne’s house. It had been a precaution, just until they had been confident, that the cops had accepted Slash’s version of things. Axl had been even farther away, up in the hunting cabin, going stir crazy. 

Slash had paid a visit to the state troopers and told them a long tale about his fear of flying and taking up the opportunity to see his beautiful home country. Yes, he had visited Axl, they had been roommates after all. Yes, the doctors were correct, he had written him a few times, and yes, Axl had his address. 

Of course, he was shocked that Axl had escaped from St. John’s, where everybody only ever wanted his best. He himself was so grateful for all the help and care he had received there during his hour of need. 

And, of course, should Axl show up at his doorstep, he would inform them. It was in his best interest after all. Axl was really not one who should be out and about on his own. But this was Alaska. How should he even manage to cover such a distance?

Now they were back, trying to work out how to live with each other. The house felt a little crowded at times, as not only Axl had moved in, but also Axl’s personality. Izzy was not sure for how long he would be able to tolerate both of them. 

In the long run they would need a different solution, because Izzy was sure, should Axl’s ego grow any bigger than it already was, he would buy a chainsaw and chop off a few inches. It wasn’t an idle threat. He had the money for that now, since Arne had taken him on as unofficial business partner. 

But today, there was peace. He had no idea where Slash and Axl were and he didn’t care. Away was enough. Duff wasn’t as quiet in bed anymore as he used to be, and they had received a few complaints from their housemates, and not only from the human kind. Once or twice Mouse had barked hysterically at their bedroom door because she had been convinced that she had to come to Duff’s rescue. 

“Slash said he needs an Anchorage,” Duff suddenly said. His head was lying on Izzy’s thigh, his eyes were closed, but now he blinked a little bit against the sun. 

“He needs what?” Izzy asked, not even trying to make sense out of the sentence.

“An Anchorage,” Duff repeated. “For winter.”

“Do you mean an anorak?” Izzy asked. 

Duff shook his head. 

“Axl said he needs one, too.”

Of course, Axl would need whatever it was that Slash needed. 

“So he can play guitar.”

“With an Anchorage?” 

Duff nodded. 

“Yes. And a band.”

“OK.” 

Slash had talked a few times about these guys who were dead set on making him join their band. He was definitely good enough. Fuck, he was far better than they were. He had seen them play together once. If he was serious about his ambitions, Anchorage soon wouldn’t be big enough for his talent. 

“He said that he can get one now because you don’t need him anymore.”

Izzy snorted. “I don’t need him?”

Duff nodded. “He said you would be fine now. Were you not fine before?”

“I‘ve always been fine,” Izzy retorted. 

Really. As if he needed a babysitter. He would be perfectly fine without Slash. Always had been. Fuck, Slash had been running after them, not the other way round. 

“We could go and watch them sometimes,” he suggested. “In Anchorage.”

“Yeah.” Duff shifted lazily between his thighs.

“Means that we’ll soon be on our own here,” Izzy said. Winter was not that far away. The nights were frosty already, and in the morning, he sometimes made out fresh snow on the mountains. 

“With Mouse,” Duff corrected. “And Buddy.”

Mouse wasn’t fond of Buddy, but she tolerated him. When he jumped onto her, bit into her tail, made bold moves towards the stick she had found, she would growl and show her teeth and make sure he knew who called the shots in this house. And she had made absolutely clear that Duff was hers and that Buddy had to first earn the privilege to his attentions. 

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “Does it bother you? That they want to move out?”

Duff shrugged. He would miss them, Izzy knew. He hadn’t shown any outward excitement about Axl’s arrival, but Izzy knew him well enough. It had made him happy. And now they would be leaving again. 

But he also had other people around him now, Arne and Anna, fuck a whole village. People smiled when they spotted Duff, gave him chocolate or brought especially beautiful shells they had found to the port so that Izzy could pass them on. Even if something should happen to him, Duff would be cared for. It had taken a huge weight off his mind.

Making pebble pictures had turned into a very popular pastime activity in Pollock Cove in general. More than one house sported some type of artwork in the front yard. None of them as beautiful as Duff’s, of course. 

To Izzy’s immense relief, while Duff was normally pretty accurate in his depictions of wildlife, the centrepiece was kind of … abstract. 

So far nobody had been able to figure out what the heck that wild swirl of light and dark pebbles and sea shells was illustrating. Slash might have a suspicion, but if so, he wasn’t bringing it up, and Izzy was happy to leave it that way. Still, each time he came home, he stopped briefly to look at it. 

“We’ll get along,” Izzy said. “You and me.”

“Yeah,” Duff said. “And Mouse. And Buddy.”

-The End-

\- Really –


End file.
